Supernatural
by Clear Plastic
Summary: Bella talks to the dead. Or rather, the dead talk to her. She's the one that all ghosts go to when they need help to 'move on'. So what happens when she meets an exceedingly attractive ghost in her new home who, apparently, doesn't want her help?
1. Chapter 1

**// Author's Note //**

Right, I'm rewriting this (: Sorry for neglecting this fic for so, so, so very long. I didn't really like this that much at first, so I abandoned it. But now, I'm inspired! :D It's still partially based on Meg Cabot's brilliant The Mediator series -- _love _Suze and Jesse… mmm, especially Jesse ;) -- hope you guys really enjoy! I loved writing this! I have the entire plot all mapped out, so I _think _I won't be putting this on hiatus anytime soon :D Hee.

-cplastic-

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**Chapter One - Bella's POV**

What comes to mind when you think, "ghost"?

White, translucent apparitions that go 'boo!'? Bloody masses with a bloodthirsty hunger for revenge? Rotting corpses rising up from the dead? Or even just sad remainders of the dead who have unfinished business?

Here's an interesting little fact: five in ten people will tell you that their worst fear is bumping into a ghost.

I meet up with ghosties on a daily basis, and this I can readily assure you: ghosts - they're mostly just _annoying. _And also _confused._

Sure, sometimes I get your average I'm-so-angry-I'm-dead-I'm-going-to-get-some-sweet-fucking-revenge ghostie, but most of them are too astonished or aggravated about their death to hone their supernatural powers. Only those that stay dead and don't move on get bored enough to start properly scaring people. Those are the ones that really, _really_ piss me off. Those are also the ones that usually get a fierce butt-kicking from me.

'Please.' the grungy, punky, _dead_ teen begged doggedly. _Just go away, _I thought. Saying it out loud would be unwise. Ghosts can be rather sensitive. I steadily ignored him and the other ten or so agitated ghosts that were crowded up in my room.

Grunting heavily, I pushed down on my suitcase. It wouldn't budge an inch.

'Please just help me. Just a little favor. C'mon.' he continued to plead. I turned around and glared. He had black dyed hair and an atrocious number of piercings on his lip.

'What's your name again?' I asked lightly.

'Trevor.' he replied eagerly. 'So, you'll help me--?'

'Trevor.' I cut through. 'My answer is still the same. No. Go get some other ghost whisperer. I'm done.'

'Dude.' he said, running a frustrated hand through his hair. 'You're the only one they recommended me to. Look, just tell my best friend that I was the one who cheated on Juliet, not Keith, alright? Plain and simple. Just a few sentences. And tell my mom it wasn't her fault.' he blinked rapidly.

Ghosts like Trevor are the ones who come and bug me. A classic I've Just Died ghost. Ghosts like Trevor are the reason I have officially quit as a ghost whisperer.

Well. Seeing ghosts isn't actually something you can quit. I was born with this stupid, cursed ability to see the dead and it sure as hell ain't going away.

You think it's cool, being able to see ghosts? Well, put yourself in my shoes: you've been pestered by ghosts since the day you were born. Everyone thinks you're a freak of some sort because you're frequently caught talking to air. You're dubbed as a juvenile delinquent because you're often thrown into jail for breaking and entering (helping ghosts solve problems involves a lot of house visits). You have no social life because the ghosts won't leave you alone. After you've pleased one ghost, another comes trotting along.

I tell you, I'm _through._

So, approximately a month ago, I've decided that if the ghosts won't ever leave me alone, then I'll simply refuse to assist them.

Now, you probably think I'm a cold-hearted little bitch, or something. They're dead, woman! Why not just help them move on? I'm sure it's not that hard! Right?

_Wrong. _So very wrong.

Some of them just want me to pass on a personal possession, or rely an apology. Return some money. Reassure a loved one that it wasn't their fault they died. Comfort their parents.

All of this is nice and heartwarming, but most people don't believe that weirdoes like ghost whisperers exist. So it doesn't go down too well, sometimes, when you show up at a recently deceased person's home and tell their family, 'Well, sorry to barge in, but Jeremy wanted me to tell you that the totaled Ford was his fault - not his brothers'.'

Yeah, people don't like that.

Sometimes they tell me to go away. Or they resort to physical violence. Ouch. Let me just say that it's not pleasant.

Getting all bruised up comes with being a ghost whisperer, so it was only natural that I would take up a little self-defense. Coupled with the fact that I'm a terrible klutz, I'm almost constantly injured. I still have this gigantic kumquat-shaped bruise on my lower back from a previous encounter with an angry girl ghostie. It aches when I bend over.

So, like I said, I'm officially retiring as a ghost whisperer. No more monkey business. My mom - Renee - is thrilled.

My mom doesn't exactly know what's wrong with me, I think. I've never told her before, but I think she's guessed. You would have guessed too, if your daughter spends sixteen years hissing to things that aren't there, if she's always getting into trouble with the police.

I love my mom. Any other mom would've either put me up for adoption or thrown me into the streets when she discovered her only daughter was insisting that 'those floating humans really exist, Mommy!' She's the best mom ever, but I sort of feel guilty for putting her through all of this, you know? I mean, having a sixteen-year-old daughter that has never been in a relationship before and spends all her free time getting into scuffles instead of gossiping on her cellular phone or shopping mindlessly. I bet it wasn't easy, raising me.

But I digress.

New York is a breeding ground for ghosts. Do you know that the average number of deaths in New York is around 55,000? And about half of them die unhappy deaths. The ones who die peacefully move on. A quarter find their way to _me_. Every. Year.

Wonder why I'm packing? I'm moving to Forks. Tomorrow.

Why Forks? Aside from the fact that it's relatively far away from New York - almost 2,500 miles - I want to start over. I'm sick and tired of people labeling me as strange or abnormal. It'd be nice to be somewhere where people didn't know you saw things.

'I'm begging you. You're my only hope.' Trevor implored desperately.

'No.'

'I need help too.' another one piped up nervously. 'Um, my mother's killing herself over my death, and I would really like it if you could just, sort of, pop over and pat her on her back a bit?' the ghost, a twelve-year-old girl in a blue top tucked her sunny blonde hair behind her ear.

'They've misinterpreted my will, can you go clear things up -'

'My grandfather blames my sister for my death, can you tell him to shut up and let it go already-'

'Stop my best friend from dating that bastard-'

'Did you guys not hear me?' I said angrily. I gave my suitcase one more push. It still wouldn't budge. 'I'm not helping you guys anymore, alright? I QUIT.' I almost yelled.

They slowly dispersed, muttering angrily. All except for Trevor. Of course.

'You really not going to help me?' he asked, crushed. I almost gave in, then. Ghosts can also be horribly persuasive. You know, with the whole being dead thing, and all.

'Yes. Sorry, but I hear there's another pretty good and responsible ghost whisperer in the Bronx.' I told him, wiping sweat off my brow. 'Now could you please…?'

Trevor pushed his hand down on the suitcase, and it popped shut cheerfully. That's another thing - ghosts can be freakishly strong.

'Thanks.' I murmured, breathing heavily and sitting down on my bed, lifting my feet up. 'Sorry. I really can't do anything for you.'

Trevor pinched the bridge of his nose. 'That's okay.' he said. His large blue eyes pierced me. 'How come you're not into being a ghost whisperer?'

I stiffened. 'It's kind of personal.'

'Oh.' he fell silent, contemplating me. He was leaning against my bedposts, a faraway expression on his face.

'Sorry,' I sighed, apologizing again.

'I never knew dying would be like this, you know?' Trevor mumbled. He absent-mindedly picked up a photo frame lying around, and his fingers sailed right through the solid wood.

'Argh. I'll never get used to that.' he stared pensively at his empty hands.

'You'll be able to pick stuff up soon enough.' I reassured him, propping my face up on my hands. 'You get stronger, you see.'

'Ah.' Trevor let out a deep sigh, and sank down on my bed. His behind didn't make any sort of indentation in my bed. Springs didn't creak. My bed sheets didn't rumple. It was kind of sad, actually.

'How'd you die?' I asked randomly. It may not be the most sensitive question to ask someone recently deceased, but I got the feeling Trevor wouldn't mind. Much.

Trevor gave me an amused smile. 'Tactful, aren't you?'

He waited a while before he answered, swinging his legs. 'It was a pretty pathetic way of dying, if you ask me. No fancy murders. I choked on this stupid golf ball. It was a dare - before you get all judgmental. He wanted to see how many golf balls I could stuff in my mouth. I choked, he panicked too much to perform a Heimlich maneuver and I - I died, I s'pose. The fucking golf ball got lodged in my throat. Stupid, huh?'

'You're not the first one.' I chuckled. 'You'd be surprised. I've had a dirty old man who took too much Viagras.'

'Wicked.' his eyes flashed with merriment. 'Well, I'd better get going. The Bronx, you say?'

'Yeah, her name's J-somthing.' I rolled over in my bed, feeling very tired. It was already midnight, and I would be waking up in five hours to take a plane to Forks. When I turned around to look at Trevor again, he'd disappeared. Gone. Vanished. _Poof._

I hate it when ghosts do that.

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**// Author's Note //**

Please tell me if I've made any critical grammar mistakes in my story! I don't receive a very adequate English education here so my knowledge on nouns and verbs and sentence compounds or whatever is very limited. Very, very limited (I live in Asia).

And... review! :D:D


	2. Chapter 2

**// Author's Note //**

Second chappie! Yay! *claps*! :D

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This was the first thing I noticed about Forks - it was way too green, an alien planet.

The house Renee bought was nestled some ways from the main town of Forks, a little closer to the green forests in Forks that made me uneasy. Everywhere I looked I saw green. Green shrubs, green trees, green lawns. It was a little unnerving, to be honest. I didn't see much when mom was driving towards Forks from the airport - I'd fallen fast asleep in the car. I was guessing it would probably be your average suburb, though. What a big change from sprawling, busy New York.

Sigh.

Slightly jetlagged and smelling like the interior of a plane, I lugged my multiple suitcases out of my mom's car, tugging them up the staircase. It was a nice house, I suppose, if you liked the rustic sort. The stairs creaked whenever I shifted my feet.

I sincerely hope that there are no ghosts here. My mom told me it was built in the 1940s. The older a building, the more ghosts there are likely to be.

'Do you like it?' mom asked, looking up at the house happily. 'There's a verandah out back, you'd like it a lot. You can read out here, it's real cozy.'

'Yeah, I like it,' I shouted back. 'Which one is my room?'

'Second floor, first door on the left.' my mom yelled.

'I'll be upstairs!' I said, disappearing into my room. I peeled off my jacket, sweating profusely.

The first thing I noticed about my room is how…girly it seemed. It wasn't all decked in pink and rosy tints, but it had a subtle girliness about it. Like the bar window, and the four-poster bed with cream drapes. I found myself disliking it instantly.

I was too lazy to unpack my suitcases. I'll unpack them later, I decided, probably not very wisely. I sat gingerly on my new mattress. It felt stiff and springy, completely different from the blissfully soft and puffy one I had at home (Mom made me throw it out - so what if it was almost ten years old?)

I could easily get used to all of this, though. Just as long as no ghosts came about.

I should be so lucky.

Ghost whisperers are literal ghost magnets - they seem to find you wherever you go.

Right on cue, a ghost materialized.

I didn't even jump. I was used to it, I guess. I simply kept staring at the opposite wall, making sure not to make any eye contact with the ghost. I watched the ghost out of my peripheral vision.

It was a man; I could tell from his broad shoulders and heavy stance. He started whistling. He took one look at me and sighed, muttering, 'Not another one.'

I felt a stab of annoyance. Ah well, I suppose this had been his turf first, before I officially moved in.

He walked in front of me, hands on hips. I continued looking at the wall, pretending as though I had no idea he was there. I'll bet you that if I show the slightest indication of acknowledgement, he'll be all over me asking me to solve his afterlife problems faster than you can say "paranormal activity".

He trudged away to the bay window, leaning against the frame and looking out, sighing deeply.

Huh.

On the other hand, if I keep ignoring him, he won't go away. And I cannot have a male ghost living in my room with me. He doesn't know I see him, but that doesn't stop me from being aware of his presence. I imagined myself bathing, and him suddenly popping up beside me to leer.

Blech.

I think I'd better get rid of him.

'Oy. Mr. Ghost.' I said as politely as possible.

He didn't even turn around when I called him. It happens a lot, I guess. Most ghosts don't ever meet a ghost whisperer in their life. Er, I mean death.

The first thing I noticed about him was that his hair was red. Or more accurately, a bronze color. I hated to admit it, but he looked gorgeous with it. His skin was supremely pale, but it suited him. The ghost in question was wearing a white, cotton shirt, and (I couldn't help but notice) the top two buttons were undone, giving me a disturbingly clear view of his sculpted chest. It was kind of ruffled at the collar. Most guys I know would look like kind of effeminate wearing that, but on him it was--there was no other word--divine. Crisp black pants, along with boots.

He was, without any doubt, the most physically attractive ghost I have ever met in my entire ghost-busting life. He even beat some (a lot) of the living ones.

I cleared my throat. He was still leaning against the window frame, head turned towards the view from the bay window. Judging from his attire, I would say that he was from around 1900 to 1930. Hey, I was good at guessing. After more than a decade of meeting ghosts, you sort of get good at guessing these things.

'Hello? Mr. Ghostie in the white shirt,' I said impatiently.

His head whipped around, eyes as wide as dinner plates. I stood there, tapping my foot against the hard, burnished wood and hearing my mom downstairs tinker around with the furniture, banging something every once so often.

'Can you hear me?' he asked, voice as velvety as… well, velvet. He stood up properly, walked a few steps towards me and waved his hands dementedly in front of my face. I could tell that he still couldn't believe I could see him. I was being to get rather irritated by now.

'I can see you, you twit.' I snapped, and grabbed hold of his waving hands.

A sharp intake of breath.

He stared at my pale hand circled around his wrist, with a single gold band around his fourth finger. Married? I wondered. He seemed a little too young. But then, what did I know?

It was a long time before he spoke again.

'You can see ghosts.' he stated, chest heaving, trying to keep his calm.

I could barely keep from rolling my eyes in exasperation. This ghost seemed dimmer than the usual ones. I mean, surely they've heard of people who can see ghosts.

'Yep.' I popped my lips on the P, and rocked back and forth on my heels, waiting for it to properly sink it. This usually happened with the ghost muttering a load of toss to himself, saying that it wasn't possible, and that it couldn't happen at all.

'Impossible.' he murmured, running his hands through his hair agitatedly. Predictably so.

'Look, it really isn't that impossible. I can see ghosts. Ever heard of The Sixth Sense? Oh… that was way after your time. Sorry.' I smiled brightly. 'Now can you get out of my room?'

He paused for a while, and I could see that his fingers were trembling slightly.

'Bella!' my mom's muffled voice filtered through from downstairs. The guy didn't flinch. He directed his eyes at me (green. Not that I was looking, or anything). He blinked slowly, lashes brushing against his impossibly pale cheeks. Now, you know there's something wrong with you when a guy's eyelashes are longer than yours. Even with the help of a little Clinique Lash Volumizer.

'If you want assistance in moving on, I'm afraid you'll have to look elsewhere.' I told him cheerfully. What with my retirement from being a ghost whisperer, and all.

He still looked a little freaked and dazed. 'Moved on?'

'Wherever you're supposed to go after you die. I get the feeling you've been waiting for a long time, though.' I said, eyeing his shoewear. 'Nice boots, by the way.'

'You mentioned something about being a ghost whisperer.' his alabaster skin glinted in the sunlight.

'Yes. But I'm retired. So I can't help you, sorry.' I turned around, inspecting my room.

'You can retire from being a ghost whisperer?' he sounded shocked.

'Not really. I just don't want to help ghosties anymore.' I shrugged. 'Not that big a deal, there's plenty more ghost whisperers in this world.'

'Bella!' my mom yelled again, footsteps thumping up stairs noisily.

I turned around. In a blink of an eye, he vanished. See, this is the thing about ghosts that irk me the most. They flash in and out of existence without a single warning or word. Sometimes I wonder if they can help it or not but most of the time it's annoying. Especially when you really, really need to talk to him. I wanted to get rid of this ghost as soon as possible. I mean, him wandering around in my room for the rest of eternity?

Not a bad idea.

No, wait. BAD idea. My mom would freak.

'Bella? I need help with the futon!' mom poked her head around the door, looking very sweaty and flustered.

I exhaled heavily, glanced at where Mr. Ghostie was before and left the room.

I had no doubt he would be back.

--

School. Or a better word for it: purgatory. School had always been the bane of my existence. I loathed school. Or to phrase it better, to people inside school.

I was standing outside of the building now. With a map of the school in hand and my book bag in the other, I walked inside, pushing open the main doors of the building. I could see that I was unfashionably early: there were still plenty of people dawdling outside, chatting and laughing. I sighed heavily. Loneliness just came with being a ghost whisperer. Like a two in one package.

Lucky me.

My homeroom was a large, spacey place, with tiny desks and bright orange plastic chairs. A hamster cage sat at the teacher's desk, with nary a hamster in sight. A few potted plants were sitting on a windowsill on the left of the room, which was open wide to let in what little sunshine Forks could provide.

Eyes darting back and forth, I searched around the homeroom and chose a seat at the very corner of the room, where no one could take much notice of me. After being the new student for more than ten times in ten different schools, I was an old pro at this. Or so I thought.

I could feel people staring at me as they slowly filtered in. I fidgeted uncomfortably, and concentrated on a piece of graffiti on my desk. _Heather is a ho_.

Poor Heather.

I looked up, puzzled. Something wasn't quite right about the atmosphere here.

Then I realized: it was far too quiet.

I mean, stick thirty-odd teenagers into a small, cramped room and normally you get a _lot _of noise and chatter, right? But strangely enough, these kids weren't making any noise at all. They were simply sitting down and looking rather depressed and frightened.

In fact - I zeroed in on a blonde girl - some of them were _crying_. The blonde was sobbing into a soggy wet tissue, eyes unflatteringly puffy and red. Someone was rubbing her back and saying soothing words I couldn't hear.

Oh God, is this a Forks thing? Are all kids in Forks creepily somber and gloomy?

A middle-aged man holding a stack of folders under his arm bustled in. Even _he _looked miserable and down in the dumps.

I shrank back into my seat. Wow, creepy.

'You new?' someone sitting next to me suddenly whispered, and the room was so quiet that even the whisper made heads turn. I blanched.

'Yeah, I'm new,' I murmured back, not wanting to draw attention to myself. The heads turned away. I relaxed. 'Bella.'

'Hi. Welcome to Forks.' the girl had curly brown hair that made her look larger than life. She, too, had red-rimmed eyes and she was sniffing big time. 'You look freaked. Don't worry, Forks kids are tame. I'm Jessica.'

'I'm freaked because…' I hesitated. 'Everyone looks really horrible.'

The girl - Jessica - winced. 'I guess you wouldn't know.'

'Know what?' I was definitely confused as hell now.

She teared up, eyes glistening. 'You'll know soon enough.' she murmured, and fell silent.

The teacher - Mr. Jensen, as I learned later - did a roll call. It lasted for half a period. It wasn't as bad as I'd imagined it would be - apparently he was too glum to make me introduce myself to the rest of the class, something I'd always thought of as completely unnecessary and somewhat embarrassing. I simply tried to make myself as invisible as possible.

I was relieved to know that I was slightly ahead everyone in Biology and World History - I was worried I'd have to do a lot of catching up.

When I changed periods, it became clear to me that the kids back there weren't the only ones who were apparently depressed. The _entire school_ was scarily silent and melancholy. They seemed almost afraid to laugh. In French, when a boy had suddenly guffawed with laughter at something his friend said, everyone stared at him like any form of laughing was something extremely taboo, like they couldn't believe he was actually amused about something. Needless to say, he quickly sobered and shut his mouth.

I was feeling increasingly uneasy and horrified. What the hell was happening? I'd tried to ask another girl sitting next to me in Bio - she simply stared blankly and moved her chair further away. Nice.

Why didn't anybody want to talk about it?

I had half a mind to make up some stupid excuse and leave Forks High. Something wasn't quite right here. Like I was in a ghost town, or something.

That is, until something rather interesting happened.

I fiddled around with my new locker, trying to remember my combination. I was never very good with numbers. 4-25-13? Or was it 42-51-7?

I was standing there, furiously twiddling the dial on my locker when a girl with spiky black hair tapped my shoulder.

I jumped a mile into the air, and my papers scattered. Several people who passed by gave me strange stares, but they said nothing.

'Hey.' the spiky-haired girl greeted cheerily.

'Hey.' I said warily back. 'What d'you want?'

Great, Bella. Very friendly and nice of you.

'Oh, nothing in particular.' the girl was grinning like mad, a toothy smile practically splitting her face in half. What could possibly tickle her so much? She was a slight girl, with pixie-like features and pale skin.

'Who're you talking to?' a random guy paused to stare at me.

I whipped my head around to look at him for a moment, befuddled. Could he not see I was having a conversation with this girl?

Then it hit me.

But by the time I turned back again to look at the spiky-haired girl, she'd already vanished.

You already know how much I hate it when ghosts do that.


	3. Chapter 3

**PLEASE READ MY AUTHOR'S NOTE BEFORE YOU READ THIS CHAPTER - IT'S VERY IMPORTANT!**

**// Author's Note //**

Right, I'm rewriting this. I didn't really like it that much before, which was probably the reason why I sort of abandoned it (sorry! D:). But now I'm inspired again, I have a brand new, fantastic plot and I'm so pumped! So... I highly recommend you to read the first chapter, or this chapter won't make any sense.

GO BACK AND READ THE FIRST, SECOND CHAPTER OR THIS ONE WON'T MAKE ANY SENSE AT ALL.

Okay? I'd better repeat it... better yet, make it bold and italicized and underlined xD

**_GO BACK AND READ THE FIRST, SECOND CHAPTER OR THIS ONE WON'T MAKE ANY SENSE AT ALL._**

Sorry, it's just that I sometimes flick past author's notes without really reading them and this is really important. :)

Right, go on now! First chapter! :D Then make sure you come back!

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I stood there for a moment before entering the class, feeling slightly apprehensive.

The random guy walked away, shaking his head. Great.

How many ghosts could a small town like Forks hold? There couldn't have been many violent deaths here, that I could be sure of.

I went inside the lab, seating myself at the very last table and waiting patiently. Everyone else slowly filed in, filling the room with chatter. I sat, brooding.

The class started, and my Chemistry teacher (I couldn't remember what his name was) pulled out some transparencies and starting droning on and on about something I couldn't quite catch. A weedy boy named Eric sat beside me, back as straight as a rod and eyes trained on the screen as if his life depended on it. The room was hot and stuffy, and I was ready to drift off into sleep when something very interesting happened. Huh, two interesting things happening in one day in drab Forks - unusual.

Two transparent figures slid through the left wall, bursting through the white screen and giggling. They were girls, and they were gamboling through the air, sailing over everyone's heads. No one flinched, except me, who lifted my head up and stared in amazement. I had never seen many cheery ghosts before. These two looked like they were having the time of their lives. I recognized one of them; the dark-haired one outside the lab. The other was beautiful - she had long, blonde hair and a shapely body.

The dark-haired one sailed down, flicked a paper cup off the teacher's desk and started laughing uncontrollably, almost hysterically. 'Look!' she said. 'Guess being dead has it's perks.'

The teacher, turned around at the falling cup, shrugged and turned back to teaching. He switched some transparencies and this time, the blonde one boldly pulled one out of his hands, and let it flutter to the ground. I ground my teeth slightly. Nothing annoys me more than a - there was no other word for them - poltergeist.

The two of them tried to tug a globe off, and I was surprised to see that they couldn't. They had to have died recently, then. I don't know why, but ghosts get to know their strength better through time. They can't lift anything heavier than a few pounds when they first start out.

I gave a loud cough, and the ghosts looked up. The dark-haired one widened her eyes when she saw me and quickly nudged her fair-haired companion. 'What?'

'There she is! She's the one I told you about; she can see us. She talked to me a little bit just now.' the dark-haired said excitedly, pausing to take a closer look at me across the room.

Blondie gave a derisive snort, sounding oddly bitter. 'Yeah, right.' and she looked at me, at the back of the class where I sat, pointedly glaring at them. 'She can't see us. No one's been able to see us for days, remember?'

To prove her point, Blondie floated in front of me and glided through my table, leaving her head poking out of my desk. I blew lightly on her head, ruffling her hair slightly. Her mouth slid open in shock as I said, 'I can see you, sweetie.'

Lauren, a pale girl with lank hair, turned around and glared at me suspiciously. I smiled apologetically, and she turned away.

'She's one of those ghost whisperer things we heard about, isn't she?' Blondie breathed.

'Lauren.' the dark-haired one said, almost sadly. She floated over to Lauren and gave her a wailing hug. Or at least, she tried to. Her arms sailed right through her and she fell to the floor with a dazed thump. 'Rosalie, help.' she whimpered from the floor, and the blonde - Rosalie, presumably - tugged her up.

'We never should've messed around with that séance.' she muttered, tearing around her eyes. She wiped them and turned around to look at me. 'You can see us.' it wasn't a question, it was a statement.

I nodded surreptitiously.

'She can help us.' the dark-haired one said suddenly. 'Oh, my God, she's the answer to all our problems. Rosalie -'

'No, I'm not!' I said loudly, wanting to repeat that I was "retired".

Everyone stared in confusion.

I shrank. 'Sorry. Daydreaming.' I offered a lame explanation, furiously blushing.

I heard a faint giggle of mirth, a slight pop, and the two female ghosts dematerialized, disappearing into thin air.

--

Next was Government. I tried to sort things out in my mind as this teacher, Miss Lyons, too, droned on and on. I certainly wasn't going to help Pixie and Rosalie, I really didn't want to help ghosts anymore. And yet the ghost whisperer in me was hungry for more details. The both of them had clearly died a violent death - they wouldn't be here if it wasn't so. And they both of them might've been close to Lauren, that must explain why Pixie seemed so sad when she saw her.

_Stop it, Bella, _I thought, frustrated at myself. I wouldn't get myself into another ghostie mess - I had the feeling their deaths weren't very pretty.

There must've been a newspaper article published about their deaths. From what I could see, the two of them probably went to Forks High, too.

Argh.

I'll just check the papers for articles, and then I'm through. That's it. I'm not even going to cave when they beg me for my assistance.

Nope.

No. Way.

--

I straightaway went up to my room after school, dumping my bag on my bed and looking out the window. It certainly was a pretty view; I could see the entire white beach from here. Bleached logs lay scattered on the sand, and waves broke gently on the beach.

I carefully unlatched the window, closed my eyes and breathed in the heady scent of the sea. I immediately felt calmed, and I folded up my legs, resting against the frame of the window. The seat was soft and cushiony, and I could feel myself drifting slowly asleep when…

'Hello.' a quiet, musical voice punctured my relaxed sleep, and my eyelids flew open in irritation.

'Did you not see,' I began, hopping off my seat. 'that I was busy?'

He gave a small chuckle, and my irritation grew significantly when I found that I liked the sound immensely. 'Just go away.' I said.

'Why should I? If I remember correctly, I was here first.' the ghost crossed his arms and leaned against the bedpost of my bed. He was, without doubt, what most people my age would call completely and utterly gorgeous.

'Don't you know what I am?' I said, mirroring his posture and crossing my arms, too.

'Yes.' he smirked.

'I suppose you want me to send you to where your supposed to go after you die, huh?' I sighed. If solving his problem would make him go away, then I'd do it.

'Where exactly do you go after you die?' he said, completely missing the whole point.

'You know. The great beyond.'

'Have you been doing this for long?' I could detect a faint trace of something I couldn't quite identify in his velvety voice.

'For as long as I can remember. So…' I waited for him to answer.

'What if,' the ghost said, almost imperceptibly, 'the ghost doesn't want to move on?' he gave me a long and calculating stare, one that completely unsettled me.

'What do you mean, you don't want to move on?' I was confused. Never in my life had I ever met a ghost that wasn't begging or crying to be rid of their ghostly state. 'Of course you want to. I mean, you must've been dead for… what?, ninety years or so.'

'Ninety-three years and counting.' he smiled engagingly, though his expression was bitter.

'Well, you obviously seem to dislike being dead, so…' I trailed off, not really understanding.

'I don't need your help.' he stated clearly.

Silence followed.

'Why?' I returned, flabbergasted.

'Well… that's just the question, isn't it?' he walked forwards, and I took an automatic step backwards. He flexed his fingers, and the ring I had noticed earlier glinted in the late afternoon sun. My eyes were riveted on the ring. The ghost evidently noticed, and he gave a harsh laugh.

'You don't want to know about this.' he said, wiggling his fingers so they were a fuzzy blur.

'I need you out of my room.' I said, hating how breathless I sounded. 'It would be nice if you could… you know, _get out.'_

'I don't think that's happening, sweetheart.' my entire body flushed when I heard "sweetheart". 'What's your name?'

'Isabella.' I replied, a knee-jerk reaction. 'But everyone calls me Bella.'

'I'm Edward. We'll probably be living in close quarters now, so…' he chuckled again when he saw my scowl.

'I can't live with you in my room.'

'We'll manage,' he replied easily.

'I don't think so!' I said immediately, outraged.

'I don't see how you can make me, Bella.' my name rolled off his tongue like sweet honey. I shivered involuntarily.

Before I could open my mouth to say anything else, he turned abruptly, walked towards a wall and dematerialized.

--

Stupid ghosts.

Stupid, stubborn, I'm-not-going-to-leave-your-bedroom ghosts.

Stupid Edward.

What I hated more was the odd thrill it gave me to think of his name.

Urgh.

Stupid ghosts.

I furiously flipped through Wednesday's newspaper, mind focusing more on how I was going to kick him out of my room instead of the precise article I was looking for. So it probably didn't occur to me that news of two local kids dying would probably be nearer the front page and not in the comics section.

I groaned, and flipped to the first few pages. Flick. Flick.

Ah.

Here it is.

--

**The Newspaper Article **

**Two Teens Found Dead**

Alice Greene, 17, and Rosalie Hale, 17, both of which who go to Forks High, were found dead today at 1.04 a.m, 14th July, in a house near Morningside and Finch Avenue. This grisly murder of two young teenage girls has shocked the entire town of Forks.

They were discovered by a close friend, Lauren Mallory, also 17, in the pool behind her own house. A distraught Lauren told the press that, "we (Lauren, Alice, Rosalie and a fourth girl, Angela Weber, 17) were having a sleepover, and we had all fallen asleep when I woke up to panicked screaming. I ran downstairs and found them lying in the pool. I didn't touch any of them. I woke my mom up and she called the police. I was so scared."

The two girls were found with multiple blows to the head and strangulation marks around their necks. Part of Greene's scalp was also badly burnt.

The Mallory house is currently under thorough investigation. Neither of their neighbors heard anything unusual that night.

Investigators believe that an intruder both Greene and Hale knew personally broke into the Mallory's house, lured them down and proceeded to strangle the two girls before throwing them into the pool, though it is unclear as to how to burn marks appeared on Greene's scalp.

Investigators also suspect that this might have been an act of vengeance, as the two girls were "really popular in high school".

Mallory claims "no one would ever consider hurting Greene and Hale, they were both too sweet".

Autopsies are scheduled on Saturday.

Memorial service for both girls are yet to be announced.

**End Newspaper Article**

**--**

I felt sick. Really sick.

Bile rose up in my throat and I quickly shoved the newspaper away before I barfed up my flapjack lunch from school. Burned scalps, strangulation marks, drowning…

Not to mention the multiple blows to the head. Ugh.

Oh God, sixteen years of reading about homicides and I still can't get used to this. The lives snuffed out in an act of wholly unnecessary violence.

'Bella?' muffled thumps and the familiar jangle of keys.

'I'm in the kitchen.' I shouted back, feeling all trembly. Well. If they ever decided to come to me, I was almost certain I could do nothing to help them. This sort of thing I usually leave to the police and detectives. It's way beyond my abilities.

Renee trudged in, eyes lit up. 'I got a job!'

'That's great.' I said distractedly.

'What's wrong, Bella?' my mom reads me like an open book.

'Do you know about this yet?' I thrust the paper at her, not wanting it anywhere near me.

My mom scanned the front page, and she turned deathly pale. 'Yes, I heard about it from my new colleagues. They were talking about it all day.'

'Oh.' I took it back.

'Horrifying, isn't it?' Renee sighed. 'And to think I thought violence in Forks was a ludicrous notion.'

I laughed slightly.

'Those two girls used to go to my school.' I told her, getting up and pouring myself a glass of pink guava juice.

'I'm so glad it wasn't you. Imagine, if you'd decided to move a few months early and if you were in that sleepover too…' she sounded fiercely protective. I smiled inwardly. Even if I'd moved her earlier, I highly doubted I would've been accepted into Lauren's elite group long enough to be invited to a sleepover at her home. But that was mom for you.

'Lucky me.' I murmured, thinking long and hard.

'Bella.' Renee suddenly looked at me intently. 'All this stuff about dying and murder…'

I stiffened.

'It's just that... I want you to promise me you won't go meddling. I know… that… previously… you seemed very interested in this… kind of stuff. Deaths and dying.' mom chose her words carefully, looking older than she ever had in her life. 'I want you to be safe. There's probably some psycho serial killer out there now and I don't want you to be part of this. Ever.'

I instantly felt pretty sad. What a terrible daughter I was, to make my mom go through this.

'I won't meddle, I promise.' I set my glass down on the granite tabletop, smiling as reassuringly as I could.

Famous last words.


	4. Chapter 4

**// Author's Note //**

OhmyGod yayayayayay fourth chapter! Remember to review, alright?

* * *

'We need your help.'

I didn't turn around at first. I'd know they'd come to me sooner or later, I guess. I calmly continued buttoning up my jacket, taking care not to appear interested. Damnit, I just promised my mom not to meddle an hour ago! What _is _it about violent murders and mysteries that appeal to me so much?

'Hello, can you hear me?' the tall blonde - Rosalie, I remembered - impatiently walked over to me, where I was standing near my mirror. Her reflection didn't appear in the mirror. Alice was looking at my messy bed disapprovingly. My clothes were scattered all over my bed, and she started folding some of my clothes. Huh, I'm thinking she was a cleanliness freak when she was alive.

'Yeah, I can hear you.' I sighed.

'Good.' the spiky-haired one said, relieved.

'Before you ask - no.'

'How did you know what we were going to ask, anyway?' she countered immediately, indignant.

'You've just been murdered - it's pretty obvious.' I snorted.

Rosalie and the other one slumped down on my bed simultaneously. 'Come on!'

'Sorry, I've decided I'm not going to help ghosts anymore.' I said decisively, patting my jeans. I glanced towards my bay window. Late afternoon sun was shining through, the perfect time to go to the beach. I'd just finished up my homework for today, and I needed something - anything - to take my mind off the murder. Of course, the victims of the murder showing up and asking for my assistance didn't exactly help much.

'That's just selfish!'

'You've read about our murders - don't you want to avenge our deaths?' the spiky-haired one said desperately.

'What's your name?' I turned around to face them both, hands on hips.

'Alice, and she's Rosalie.' she cocked a finger at Rosalie, and Rosalie nodded in assent. 'We've no idea who killed us, we can't remember anything.'

'That's none of my business.' I said coolly. At the same time, a twinge of longing popped up within me, and I immediately tried to quash it. What the heck was wrong with me? I'd already made the decision to start over in Forks, and yet here I was, ridiculously intrigued in their double murders.

'Okay, Lauren, Alice, Angela and I - we were having a sleepover, and -'

'I don't want to know.'

'Argh!' Rosalie let out a small, annoyed shriek. 'Here we are, asking politely for your help, and you blow us off?'

'We just want you to find out who killed us, that's all.'

'Get another ghost whisperer.'

'We don't know anyone else!'

'Go to the busiest street in Forks, start screaming and shouting bloody murder, and see who turns around to look at you. That's the easiest way.'

'Stop being such a whiny bitch.' Rosalie hissed.

I _was_ being a whiny bitch.

'All we remember was being strangled with bed sheets, and the next thing we knew-' Alice shuddered delicately, and wrapped her arms around herself, as though it was suddenly colder in the room.

'Listen.' I sat down beside them, sympathetic. I laid my hand on her shoulder, and Alice gasped a little. It must be weird, being touched when you're a ghost. 'I know you're probably really confused and distressed right now, but I've already sworn to myself that I wouldn't go near another murder case after I moved to Forks.'

'Why the _hell_ not?'

'You wouldn't understand.' I sighed. Then, without any word of warning, I bounced off my bed and skipped out of my bedroom. 'Goodbye and have a nice death!' I trilled cheerfully, feeling the slightest bit insensitive.

'Oi!' Alice said, exasperated. 'Come back here!'

'Mom! I'm going to the beach!' I called out, quickly hopping down the stairs and putting on my trainers. My escape was futile, I knew. They'd find me anyway. At the beach, I mean.

'Be back by seven!' I heard my mom's answering yell, somewhere from the kitchen.

I wish ghosts would just leave me the hell alone.

Unsurprisingly, Alice and Rosalie followed, floating and soaring here and there. I've always kind of wanted to know what it was like, flying like that. I watched as Alice floated down to a lone glass of orange juice on the coffee table in the living room. She painstakingly lifted the glass to her mouth, hungry expression on her face, and she drank.

The orange liquid went right through her and splattered down on the wooden floor.

I sighed yet again, and grabbed a rag to wipe the stain up.

Rosalie and Alice were both standing there, looking at the puddle of orange juice with somber expressions on their faces.

'It's weird, being dead.' Alice broke the silence. Ghosts didn't need to eat or drink - or even breathe, for that matter. But they still do it. Old habits die hard, I guess. I thinking it must get pretty uncomfortable, not having to breathe.

I tossed the rag away. 'I know,' I said quietly, though all of us knew I really didn't, not really.

--

'Please?'

'No.' I ground out, trying not to make my mouth move too obviously. The beach was currently devoid of people but you never know who might be watching.

'Pleeeease?'

'No.'

My little trip to the local beach at La Push was quickly turning sour. A normal person walking by would see a very frazzled and cross seventeen-year-old sitting on the rocky beach, enjoying the sunset with a pained expression on her face, hands curled into fists, nerves seriously rattled. A ghost whisperer, on the other hand, would see me sitting down on the rocky beach, hands curled into fists, nerves seriously rattled, with two ghosts spiraling around her head.

'Please?'

I didn't even bother to answer this time. What irked me most was the fact that they almost seemed to have fun taunting me.

_'Pleaseeeeeeeeee_?' Alice dragged it out extra long and whiny, hands clasped together and sticking her face really close to mine.

I shook my head. I'm not even having fun at the beach now, thanks to these two ghosties right here. And I absolutely love beaches. This one is particularly lovely. The waves broke gently on the rocky beach, and there's shells embedded everywhere in the sand. I'm sitting near a bleached white log nestled behind a strangely beautiful formation of rocks. The tide pools scattered here and there are stunning.

'Please go away.' I groaned.

It was then that I realized there were a few more people on the beach now. It was a small group of three boys - men, maybe. One thing that made them distinctive: they were huge. Very huge. All three were tall and muscly, with tanned, russet skin. I watched as they settled a few yards away from me, pulling out blankets and laying down on them. I turned away.

'They're Quileutes.' Rosalie told me, staring too. 'This is sort of their beach - we don't come down here often.'

'Oh.' I said, not really understanding at all.

'Please?' Alice begged.

I started groaning. 'Blearrghghghg.' I wish there was a way I could make them disappear at will.

Well, there is a way. But it's exorcising, and I haven't really dabbled much in exorcism. And it's kind of reserved for the more violent ghosts. The ones that won't stop disturbing - or worse, killing - real live people. I've heard the easiest exorcism includes chicken blood, though.

Ick. I hate blood. Just the very smell of it makes me dizzy.

'He's staring.' Rosalie said lazily, pointing. I turned. Sure enough, one of them was looking intently my way. He had longish hair, and a rather wolfish grin. I didn't bother fantasizing if he was interested in me. Most likely it was because the bleached log was his, or he wanted me off the beach.

'Hey, he's walking over.' Alice observed, surprised.

I peered. His friends seemed astonished as he picked himself up and walked lazily over, hands in the pockets of his jeans. I continued staring. He sat down, cross-legged, directly in front of me.

'Hey.' he greeted, eyes crinkling at the corners. He was sort of cute, in a baby brother you're-so-adorable kind of way.

'Hey.' I replied warily. Above me, Alice and Rosalie started laughing hysterically, hands clutching their stomachs. I didn't know what was so funny.

He must've noticed my face scrunch up. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing…' I abandoned all pretense and started waving my arms wildly above my head, beating Rosalie and Alice away. They yelped in horror and sped a few more feet above me. I don't even want to imagine what I must've looked like to Jacob, wringing my hands above my head as though beating away stray flies. Especially when there was nothing above me.

Then the guy started laughing. I wasn't surprised. I probably looked like a deranged psychopath. I waited patiently till he stopped laughing.

He wiped his eyes after he was done guffawing, shooting me an amused glance.

'So, you can see them too, huh?'

Above me, Rosalie and Alice fell silent. They gently drifted down and gaped. I don't think I was any better.

I have met a few other ghost whisperers in my lifetime, but it always stuns me whenever I find one. I can't really imagine other people living my kind of lifestyle. You know, ghost busting, being ousted as someone drastically different, getting into trouble with the law.

Instead of having this long, long talk with another ghost whisperer about how-do-you-get-rid-of-pesky-ghosties, I bolted. Seriously.

'Ohreallysorrygoodbye!' I gabbled, picked up my jacket, and ran.

--

I still couldn't believe I met another ghost whisperer.

I lay in my bed, staring up at the darkness. It was approximately two in the morning and I still couldn't get any sleep. Thankfully, Rosalie and Alice didn't follow me back. I'm assuming they went to bug that big guy, instead. Good riddance.

I think.

Argh. Maybe it's in my ghost whisperer blood, but I kind of want to go investigate that murder. Maybe it's the mystery? Or the sheer thrill of discovering whodunnit? I dunno.

I turned over in my bed, feeling all hot and bothered.

No. No more. I promised my mom that, and I'm not going to break it anytime soon.

_Pop_.

I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep, heart sinking. Rosalie and Alice were back.

I heard heavy steps.

Thud.

Thud.

Then, a touch as light as a feather on my cheek.

My eyes sprang open, and I turned on my bedside table lamp. Touching my face gently on my cheek just seemed like a very weird thing for a pair of teenage girls to do.

It turned out to be Edward.

He leaned against a bedpost, grinning.

'Arghhh!' I tumbled out of my bed, bringing my sheets down with me. He started laughing softly. All I could think was that I was only wearing a thin spaghetti strap shirt and some short shorts. Really short shorts.

Clutching my sheets close to my chest region, I croaked stupidly, 'What're you doing in my room?!'

He raised an eyebrow. God, he really is good-looking. 'I live here.'

'No, I live here!!' I squawked.

'I've lived here for ninety years.' He countered. 'And you've only lived here for a mere day. Do you honestly think I'm going to leave because you asked me too?' he challenged me, voice irresistibly velvety.

'Can't you go haunt someplace else?' I scrambled up and sat down tentatively on my bed, heart racing. Oh God, that was such a scare.

'I used to sleep here, too.' he says carefully. 'I know it might not be comfortable living here with me, but I'm - for lack of a better word - a gentleman. I will not… appear when you're in a compromising situation, say. I'm not leaving. But you'll get used to it.' he shrugged. 'You won't even know I'm here.'

I stayed silent, flushing.

'Are you fine with that?' he said, expression undecipherable. I couldn't tell if he thought I was some pest.

'I guess.' I managed.

Edward smiled. It was a really, really devastating smile. I could tell he'd have broken his fair share of hearts when he was alive.

'Get some sleep, Bella.' he pushed me down gently, and I obeyed. I watched as his pale hands flipped off my bed light switch, and I was plunged into darkness.

I couldn't sleep. Not with him probably standing there and watching.

I waited a few more minutes.

'Are you still there?' I whispered, fists clutching at my sheets and sweating a little.

A soft sigh. 'Yes.'

'Are you _watching_ me sleep?'

Silence.

'Do you want me to go?' he asked, a smile in his voice.

'Kind of.' I said, feeling kind of bad. I was kind of shooing him out of his own room, after all.

'Goodnight, Bella.'

A soft pop.

My tensed body finally relaxed.

--

School was still boring.

I walked down the empty school halls with a pass in my hands, on the way to the girl's toilet. Everyone here was still quiet. I mean, quiet isn't necessarily a good thing, you know? Especially when it's a roomful of teenagers. Did the death of Alice and Rosalie really have this big an impact on their fellow peers? I'm guessing they were pretty popular when they were alive. They certainly looked the types, what with their bubbly personalities and good looks.

I pushed open the doors of the toilet. It was blessedly clean. The walls gleamed and there weren't any suspicious stains on them, unlike my previous school.

I was still brooding when I pushed open a random toilet door. Rosalie and Alice were still M.I.A. I guess I'd been kind of wishing they'd come bug me more. Maybe my resolve would crack if they continued pressuring me.

Ugh, no toilet paper.

I backtracked and went into the other one.

And I stopped dead in my tracks. My whole world started spinning and I began to shake violently, feeling my stomach heave. Vision swimming, I quickly backed out of the stall, letting out a shrill, blood-curdling scream.

I tried to look away, but I couldn't.

Oh God.

Oh God oh God oh God oh God.

The decapitated head in the toilet bowl continued to spin, water stained red with blood, face frozen in an expression of sheer terror.


	5. Chapter 5

**// Author's Note //**

This is such fun to write (: Please remember to review! :D:D:D:D

* * *

**Head Found In Forks High, Police Baffled**

In an act of stunningly horrifying violence not seen in Forks for nearly five relatively peaceful decades, the decapitated head of a female student has been found in the girl's toilet of Forks High, cleanly cut off at her neck.

Local student Isabella Marie Swan, 17, was the one who found the head when she was on a toilet break, at approximately 10.30 in the morning. "I was just going to the toilet and I found it in the toilet bowl of the second toilet." a visibly shaken Swan claims. "Then I ran out and shouted for help."

Students were given the day off and hurried home, when the school principal, Mrs. Horyse, was alerted of the murder. Police were called in half-an-hour later and the head has been identified as the head of Angela Weber, 17.

Investigators have combed the entire school compound extensively for the rest of Weber's mangled body but it has not been found yet. Police are baffled by the lack of evidence left behind by the vicious killer. "We can't find anything that shows us who the killer is, not even fingerprints or a blood splatter. The head was obviously chopped off quite recently; if the killer had decapitated her in school, it's amazing he or she didn't leave anything behind. This is the act of a cold and seasoned killer," local detective Private Kitt told reporters.

Police are unsure whether this murder has any relation to the death of Alice Greene and Rosalie Hale a few days ago. "We're informed that Greene and Hale were close friends with Weber." says Private Kitt. "There's a very good chance that they're the work of the same killer. Weber was also at the sleepover at Mallory's house on Sunday."

Lauren Mallory, 17, close friend of Weber, was seen in hysterics outside of the school compound while she was being led away by her mother.

Police strongly urge anyone who has information on these three murders to step forward. "We're trying to prevent a fourth murder from happening." a grim-faced Vinnie Holson, Head of the Police Force, says.

The memorial service for Weber is yet to be announced.

**End Newspaper Article**

--

Did you know that after a head has been cut off, you have about 13 seconds of consciousness before you black out? Give or take a few seconds, I guess.

I can only imagine what Angela Weber was going through when she was conscious for that 13 seconds. It must have seemed like a lifetime. Even when I close my eyes, I can still see her head bobbing around in the water behind my eyelids.

Predictably, my mom completely freaked out when I came home with two police escorts that day. 'What's wrong? Bella, what's going on?' she'd asked in horror when I came back, shaking and shivering, brow slick with cold sweat.

I sat down on the futon in our living room for a few minutes while Renee comforted me, rubbing soothing circles on the small of my back.

'What happened?' my mom asked worriedly.

And I cried.

I never cry.

I don't know, maybe it was because everything just seemed so bizarre and warped. You'd think someone who met ghosts who died violent deaths tons of times before would get used to this kind of stuff. But I don't usually deal with corpses. I just deal with the aftermath. Right then, all I could think was this: Angela Weber will never get to be comforted like this by her mother again. She'll never be able to come back home from school and give her mom a nice hug, or have an argument over her clothes with her mom.

I don't know why I was so affected by her death. I hadn't even seen her before this.

'Ma'am.' one of the police officers, a burly middle-aged man in his forties, stepped forward uncomfortably. I was pretty embarrassed to be crying in front of these two police officers, but I couldn't stop. Snot was beginning to dribble out of my nose very unattractively. 'Another murder's happened in your daughter's school.'

Renee silently clapped a hand to her mouth.

'She was the one who found the body, ma'am. I'm sorry.' the police man bowed his head. I didn't know what he had to apologize for.

'Thank you.' Renee managed, turning deathly white. Through my blurry tears, I saw the two policemen quietly let themselves out.

'Oh, honey.' Renee murmured, and I curled up in her arms, feeling like I was five years old again. 'You're shaking so hard.'

'Sorry, I said I wasn't going to meddle again and this happened…'

'It's not your fault. Who…'

'A girl my age.' I mumbled, wiping my eyes. 'I didn't know her. Angela Weber.'

If it was possible, my mom's face got even paler. 'Weber. Daughter of Amelia Weber?'

'I don't know.'

'She's one of the students at the studio.'

I sat upright. 'What studio?'

'I haven't told you? I've found a job at the local ballet studio. I'm teaching ballet. I think Angela Weber went there. I remember meeting her mother. She was a nice woman.' Renee said distantly.

'That's... great.' I didn't know what else to say.

A few more minutes passed. Mom gently pushed my tangled, damp hair behind my ears. 'You okay, now?'

I sat upright, sniffing a little, smiling weakly. 'Yeah. Kind of.'

'Maybe moving here wasn't such a great idea, after all.' Renee mused.

I walked up the stairs, aching for a nice, long bath. The deaths of the three girls, Edward the Ghost, the other ghost whisperer, the decapitated head... all of this swirled around in my muddled head. Suddenly, I felt very, very homesick. 'Yeah. Maybe.'

--

I hadn't even thought about the fact that Angela Weber would most probably come to me after she died. There wasn't a chance that Angela would have moved on.

She was sitting on my bay window, talking to Edward the Ghost. I stood there, watching, for a few seconds before clearing my throat. It felt pretty weird, seeing Edward and Angela talking. Especially because Angela was blushing furiously and her hands kept going to her hair unconsciously.

'Um.' I said loudly, blinking. It was a little bizarre, seeing Angela here, seemingly healthy and well, when just a few hours ago her head was spinning around in the confines of a squeaky toilet bowl. 'Hello.'

Angela sprang to her feet, looking at me guiltily. I found that strange. It wasn't as though they were doing anything else other than talking. Right?

'Isabella, right?' Angela said, a little sheepishly. There were tear stains on her cheeks, I noticed.

I studied her before replying. She had long brown tresses, and a pair of thick black frames resting on her cute button nose. She certainly didn't look like she'd just been decapitated a few hours ago.

'Bella.' Edward nodded in my general direction.

'Hi.' I tossed myself onto my bed, face down. 'Angela, right?'

'Yeah.' I felt Angela shift her feet.

'I found your head, you know.' I commented randomly.

'You did?' Angela sounded sick. 'Sorry, but I'd rather not talk about that.'

'Understandably so.' I murmured. 'Sorry you're dead.'

A sigh. 'Yeah, me too.'

'I sense my presence isn't needed here.' Edward said. I looked up just in time to see Edward walk through my window and disappear into the dim sunshine.

'You're a ghost whisperer.' Angela began, twisting her fingers nervously. I didn't know why she was so jumpy. Did I look that intimidating to her? 'And… well, I'd like some help, if you would.'

My heart sank. I really, _really _didn't want to refuse.

'So… will you?' Angela continued hopefully, big brown eyes pleading. 'It's not much, really. I just want you to tell me what happened when… they figure out who did it. Then maybe I'll be able to move on.'

'Who explained all this to you?' I asked, curious. Usually, the recently deceased are confused and disoriented. Angela just seems very diplomatic and matter-of-fact about this.

'That ghost… Edward, told me everything.' she blushed slightly.

'He's good-looking, huh?' I said, looking up at the ceiling and smiling.

Angela looked horrified. 'I didn't… I mean, he talked to me first… I didn't want-'

'What're you talking about?'

'I mean… Edward's your boyfriend, isn't he? I swear I didn't want to…'

I started laughing dismissively. 'Not even close. I've only known him for two days, tops, and I want him to get the hell out of my room.' I said loudly, just in case Edward was still hanging around, listening.

'Oh,' Angela was clearly relieved. 'I just assumed, you know, since he was living here with you and he seemed to know quite a bit about you.'

I decided then that I quite liked Angela. She was the sort of girl who listened first before she judged. I got the feeling we might have been good friends. You know, if her head hadn't been sliced off by some psycho. Ugh.

'See, Angela…' I chose my words carefully. 'It isn't that I don't _want _to help you, it's just that… certain circumstances… have forced me to shirk my duties as a ghost whisperer. You know.' I told her, waving my hand dismissively. Angela's face fell a mile. She crossed her arms, hair falling over her face.

'Yeah, he told me that, too.'

I narrowed my eyes. 'Who? Edward?'

Angela nodded, looking down at the floor. 'He told me you'd probably be less than enthusiastic to help me. That's okay. I'll get another ghost whisperer.' her expression was so dejected I felt my resolve crack further.

You know, Bella, just one more stint as a ghost whisperer wouldn't hurt.

NO! You promised Renee, and another case would just lead to another, and another, and another… another never-ending cycle.

Just as I was about to open my mouth and make the worst promise of my life, Alice and Rosalie materialized.

'I can't _believe _how selfish the ghost whisperers are around here-'

'That fucking kid wouldn't even _consider _helping us-'

They stopped short when they saw Angela. Angela's eyes went as wide as tires behind her frames.

'You're dead, _too?_' Alice gasped in horror.

'Oh my God, Alice! Rosalie!' Angela cried, and tears sprang anew to her eyes. I watched, something tugging at my heartstrings, as the lifelong best friends hugged each other and reunited. Oh God, now there would be _three._

'How?' Rosalie sat Angela down on my bed.

'I don't remember - I was just in the girl's toilet, then the next thing I knew, I was dead.' Angela wailed. 'I can't believe I'm dead - I can't believe _you _guys are dead - I can't believe I'm seeing you two here… I never thought I'd see you both again…' tears streamed fast and free down her flushed cheeks, red with emotion.

Alice buried her face in her friend's shoulder. 'Poor Angela.' she murmured, smiling painfully.

It was then that I realized I would help them.

I mean, they had their whole life in front of them before their lives were ended so abruptly and aggressively. Bright futures, smart, popular, beautiful - the whole package. The least I could do was ensure they got some semblance of justice in their deaths by getting the murderer, right? I waited until Angela was done explaining how she died to Rosalie and Alice, both of which who were wincing as she told her tale.

'Do you guys remember anything at all?' Angela asked.

'Nope, not a thing.' Rosalie replied. 'Which is why we're back here to continue pleading with Miss Bella Swan.'

'You guys been asking long?' Angela gave them a ghost of a smile.

'Very long. She won't back down no matter what. We actually met another ghost whisperer yesterday, and he wouldn't help us, either. Gave us some crap about how it wasn't his business and he wouldn't help…' Alice gave me a reproachful glare. 'If we don't get some form of closure, we'll be stuck here forever.'

'Bella.' Rosalie turned around to face me and fixed me with an inscrutable expression. 'We're begging you. Please, _please_, help us. We'll do anything.'

'Okay.' I shrugged, sighing.

All three of them were thrown off by my reply.

'You… you will?' Alice stammered, looking as though she hardly dared to believe it, like she expected me to take back my answer and say, "Oh, did I say okay? Sorry, that was just a joke, I don't want to help you."

Like I was _that _heartless.

'Yeah, okay.' I sighed.

Alice squealed at an impossibly high decibel. 'Oh my gosh!'

'What do you want me to do?' I stared a hole in the wall, thinking. I was already feeling hyped up at the thought of getting behind another mystery. How the hell did I ever think I could spend my whole life _not _being a ghost whisperer? It was in my very soul, my blood. I was practically born to be one, as clichéd as that sounded.

'We just want you to tell them - you know, the police - what we can remember.' Rosalie said excitedly, bouncing up and down. 'Kind of help them in any way you can - drop anonymous tip offs, anything.'

'You won't regret this, I promise!' Angela gave me a hug.

Somehow I think I probably will.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **Hello! :D:D You guys having an awesome summer break? Over here in my country, a major major major exam is coming up! (: Don't know why I'm telling you that! Please don't forget to review!

* * *

'Don't tell me you're wearing that to school!' Alice exclaimed in horror.

My scowl deepened, and I looked down at my outfit. 'I'm wearing this to school.' I said, almost defiantly, feeling slightly embarrassed. Granted, what I was wearing wasn't exactly very Abercrombie and Fitch, but my mom's old college sweatshirt and some worn jeans were perfectly, completely acceptable attire.

Right?

Argh, I'd never been much good at dressing myself up.

'Don't be silly, Bells.' Alice spun around me.

'Bells?' I repeated, befuddled. 'My name is_ Bella.'_

'It's a nickname. _Bells._' Alice rolled her eyes expressively.

'I don't like it.' I said decisively. Truth was, I kind of _did. _It had a nice ring to it, I guess. Also, I'd never had a friend close enough to earn myself a nickname. Mostly it was just That Psycho Girl or Her.

'Whatever.' Alice's eyes did another roll. 'Go get something else better to wear.'

I hadn't even gotten started going further into Alice, Rosalie and Angela's deaths yet and I was already regretting my decision to assist them. Why? I'll make a nice little list:

(1) They haven't left my room since I said, "Yes."

(2) Rosalie went through all of my clothes, and declared them "completely unbearable".

(3) Alice woke me up at the crack of dawn today by shrieking the frankly very overused phrase, "Rise and shine, Bella!" I mean, what does rise and shine really signify? I mean, I get "rise", but what the heck does "shine" mean? Does it mean that if I wake up early I will suddenly have the ability to emanate a strange, bright glow, hence the word, "shine"? Gah.

(4) Angela's been going through all of my books. Call me crazy, but I'm very, very uncomfortable with people rifling through my literary possessions. It drives me crazy.

(5) Alice gave me a full mani/pedi last night. While I was _sleeping._ I woke up to ten glittery green toes and fingers. Or as Alice insists, "aquamarine".

(6) Because Forks High gave us a three-day break from school in light of Angela's death, I have been stuck in my house with them for three days - 72 hours, 4320 minutes, 259200 seconds, whichever way you put it - since Renee won't let me out just incase the killer decides to off me randomly.

(7) They have been complaining non-stop about how death sucks in a major way.

(8) They just won't leave me _alone._

Rosalie floated over from the bathroom, clutching a toothbrush. 'What're you guys up to?' she asked, grinning lazily.

'Look at what Bells is wearing!' Alice pointed to my chest in a very melodramatic way. 'It says "Yale" in ugly yellow faded words! Yellow and blue!'

'Yale?' Rosalie's expression was blank. 'That top's pretty horrible. I haven't heard of this shop Yale before. Is it couture?'

I stared.

'Just kidding, I know it's a uni.' Rosalie snorted. 'I'm not _that _much of an air headed blonde.'

'You scared me back there.' I sighed in relief, genuinely shocked. 'And what's my toothbrush doing in your hand?'

'It feels weird, not having to brush my teeth.' Rosalie shrugged, running a pink tongue over her creepily straight, white, movie star teeth.

'When you're dead, your teeth won't decay.' I told her snarkily, snatching up my book bag. 'Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to go to school. You three stay here if you must.'

'Are you kidding?' Alice's mouth slid open. 'You really expect us to stay here while you go to school and socialize, generally having a life while ours have been snuffed away? No way!'

'No way!' Rosalie chorused, punching a fist unnecessarily up in the air. 'You're stuck with us, Bella, Bells, whatever you want to be called.'

'Wait, wait for me!' Angela shot out of the seat of the bay window, letting my only copy of Jane Austen's _Mansfield Park _thump onto the hard wooden floor. I winced inwardly. 'I hope they find my body today, my mom would freak if she only had my head to bury…'

_That _is probably the most bizarre thing you'll ever hear coming out of a seventeen-year-old teenager's mouth. Or a mouth any other age, for that matter.

'Oh, my God!' I let out a cry of despair, and shot down the stairs. The three of them sailed after me, giggling madly as they flew.

'I swear, flying is the only good thing that comes out of being dead.' Angela sang, hair fluttering.

'I know!' Alice did a double backflip, pale legs wriggling.

'Weeee!'

'Bye mom, I'm going to school!' I shouted, grabbing an apple, not bothering to wait for a reply. I shut the door behind me, but the three of them burst out of the solid wood anyway, good as new.

Rosalie, Alice and Angela flew about three feet above me as I trudged unhappily to school. If that ghost whisperer from the beach had walked by, he'd have seen three girl-shaped balloons gamboling and squealing for all they were worth above me, looking as though they were having the time of their lives. Or, should I say time of their deaths? Confusing.

'Don't talk to me too much at school.' I told them before I entered Forks High. 'Or ask yes or no questions, so I can nod or shake my head. People think its weird when I talk to thin air.'

'Anything you wish.' Angela shrugged, flying - more like floating, actually - on her back lazily with her hands behind her head.

Forks High was unusually empty. I guess a lot of kids were probably terrified of even getting out of their house now, let alone come to a public school where a recent murder had occurred. Only a few students were milling about silently, looking jumpy.

'This place looks miserable.' Alice declared, flying right through a limp girl clutching her books to her chest like some makeshift piece of armor. Like _that _would keep a psycho killer at bay. Pssh.

'Because we're not here.' Rosalie finished Alice's sentence, smiling a little sadly. 'I never thought I'd actually say I missed school, but there you go.'

--

I think I'll skip to recess. This is the bit where something interesting actually happened. I spent the previous periods dozing off and to ignore Alice and Rosalie chatting - Angela actually began reading my textbooks - because the teachers decided not to teach due to the lack of students present.

I waited in line for my lunch in the cafeteria, like any other day. I didn't really have any problem with choosing a table to sit at; there were almost twenty that were depressingly empty. 'Go sit over there!' Alice ordered me, looking down hungrily at my pizza-and-yogurt combo. It wasn't as though ghosts could eat, I guess even after you're dead you still don't lose the urge to digest _something_. Going that long without food must be kind of strange.

'Where?' I murmured out of the corner of my mouth.

Alice pointed, and I saw a supremely pale Jessica sitting all by her self at a table right in the middle of the cafeteria. 'That's where all of us used to sit.' Rosalie said wistfully.

'Who, exactly?' I asked quietly, walking over to Jessica.

'Emmett, Mike, Tyler, Jessica, Alice, Lauren, Angela, Jasper, Ben, and me… you know, the usual group. We sat smack bang in the middle.'

I filed this away carefully in a little corner in my mind just in case it ever became useful.

'Hey.' I greeted tentatively as I approached, setting my lunch tray down noisily on the white table. Several people turned around to look.

Jessica looked so relieved and happy I nearly cried. Nearly.

'Thank God you're here.' she said, eyes as wide as dinner plates. 'Bella, right? I met you on your first day here.'

'Yeah.' I said, placing my behind snugly on an orange chair.

'Hi, Jess.' Alice piped up, drifting above her. Needless to say, Jessica didn't reply her.

'I'm terrified.' Jessica told me bluntly.

'I know. You should be.' I said, equally blunt.

'No one will come near me.' Jessica said, near tears. I sort of admired her for not letting those tears fall, though. She looked as though she was trying hard to fight them back. I could tell she just didn't want to cry in front of everyone, though no one would have blamed her in the least if she did, what with her three dead best friends and such. 'It's like I have a disease or something. They think I'm…' she gulped.

'Next?' I offered, ripping the top off my yogurt.

'Yeah. Kind of. Like they're thinking, "If I hang out with Jessica Stanley I will get killed next, too". I mean, I can't exactly blame them for that but I just feel pretty alone. So thank you for being here, I guess.'

'Poor Jess.' Angela, Rosalie and Alice had all fallen silent, and they were crowded around the table, hanging on to Jessica's every word.

'That sucks.' I couldn't think of anything else to say.

'You can say that again.' she sighed, burying her face in her shaking hands. 'What if it _is _true? You know… that I'm next?'

'Probably not.' I reassured her, though I knew absolutely nothing. 'Rosalie, Alice and Angela were at Lauren's sleepover, right? And you weren't?'

'Yeah. I couldn't go that night because I had to do a night shift. For my job. The police think she might be next, too. Lauren, I mean. You know they've stationed, like, thirty officers around her home?'

'They did? Good.' I said, surprised. 'See…' I motioned for Jessica to lean in more. Alice, Rosalie and Angela did so too. 'With killers, there's usually a pattern. From what I can see, the pattern here is that the victims were all participants of Lauren's little sleepover, right? Sure, they were all from the same tight knit group of best friends, a group you're part of too, but I think it's more likely that the killer is targeting people from the sleepover. Even if the killer _was _going after you, I don't think he or she would risk another murder, especially since the whole town is on their guard. You know.'

'That doesn't really reassure me.' Jessica said, face whitening. 'And how d'you know so much about murders?'

'Ever heard of Patricia Cromwell or Scarpetta Kay?' I fished around for a weak excuse. 'I read a lot of books. Anyhow, you can always request special protection from the police. They'd most definitely come around your house too if you ever asked and explained you're worried about, you know, being next.'

Despite all of Jessica's efforts, tears began gathering in her eyes. 'That's the thing. I don't even know if the police will be enough to keep the killer out. What if…' she swallowed. 'What if somehow he manages to get me?'

Silence fell.

'I don't know.' I admitted, feeling my heart sink. 'I just don't know.'

--

As a ghost whisperer, you just naturally get this instinct to kind of protect everyone around you that's threatened, you know? Which was probably why I was with Jessica all day, keeping her company. I mean, the poor girl needed it. And I was probably the only one in the whole school who could probably fight back adequately if some psychopath jumped out at me from behind a dustbin, or whatever. Also, I found out I shared two periods with her that day, so I mostly talked with her. Alice, Rosalie and Angela had disappeared. For the moment.

We - Jessica and I - were the only ones talking normally in the entire class.

I was chatting to Jessica about previous crushes and such (I was trying to get her mind off the possibility of getting killed) when the three of them materialized again.

'Hello!' Alice trilled, face bright.

'Did you miss us?' Angela said, sing-song.

I tried not to jump in fright. Instead, while still casually chatting to Jessica, I picked up a pen and acted as though I was just absent-mindedly doodling. I wrote: _Where have you been??_

'We've been looking around. Visiting old people.' Alice looked kind of sad now. 'I went to see Jazzy.'

I wrote more: _Who's Jazzy?_

Apparently Alice was too upset to reply, because Rosalie helpfully said, 'Jasper was Alice's boyfriend.'

Alice whacked her behind her head.

'Sorry - Jasper _is _Alice's boyfriend.'

'No past tenses, please.' Alice moaned.

'Hold on.' Angela's nose twitched. I paused.

'What's wrong?' Jessica asked, startled by my abrupt silence.

'Sorry, I thought I heard something.' I said.

'What's up?' Alice followed Angela as she furiously floated over to a small little cupboard in the corner of the classroom, a cupboard, I'm assuming, that was usually used for storing files, extra books and such.

My eyes followed Angela's erratic flight.

'What're you looking at?' Jessica curiously followed my gaze. 'You're staring at that cupboard?'

'Help me get this open.' Angela cried out, distressed. Rosalie and Alice looked alarmed. 'What're you going on about?' Rosalie demanded.

'Something isn't quite right.' Angela said, gasping slightly. 'I think - something -'

'Okay - okay - we'll get the cupboard open.' Alice reassured Angela, slightly freaked out.

They struggled with the cupboard door for some minutes. Unfortunately, they still weren't strong enough for a cupboard door.

'Why're you still looking at the cupboard?' Jessica said, bewildered, waving her hands in front of my face slightly. 'I'm here.'

'Wait…' I murmured, transfixed. 'I need to get something from that cupboard.' I decided to put Alice and Rosalie out of their misery - they were positively red in face and sweating by now. I felt everyone in the class watching me as I made my way over to the nondescript cupboard.

'Let me.' I whispered quietly, and Rosalie and Alice let go of the handles of the cupboard, wheezing.

I tugged the smooth cupboard open, and the rest of Angela's body tumbled out.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Yes, I know that the body should be rotting by now and it should be giving off this really foul smell - it's all part of the plot ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **(: Review! You guys are so awesome for reviewing :D

* * *

There was only one word going through my mind when I saw Angela's mangled corpse: OH MY FUCKING GOD.

'OH MY FUCKING GOD.' I screamed, and crawled away as quickly as possible, heart feeling like it was going to rip itself out of my ribcage.

There was a split second's pause as the rest of the class tried to process what they were seeing. I'm guessing corpses without their heads is something the students of Forks High don't exactly see everyday.

Then, several things happened at once:

First, Angela snapped out of her feverish reverie and squealed. In _happiness._ 'My body! Yay!' Angela floated over and clapped her hands, looking down at her body. She then proceeded to grimace. 'Damn, I look really horrible. I really should have thrown that skirt away before I died. Ugh.' I glanced at the aforementioned skirt. To be honest, it really didn't look very flattering on Angela's alabaster to-die-for thighs. Even if said thighs were currently a mottled blue color.

Second, Jessica promptly turned over to her side and puked up a delightful medley of the spaghetti she had earlier and some chunks of what looked like half-digested, congealed brown noodles (I'm thinking she had some Chinese takeout yesterday).

Third, Rosalie and Alice both broke into disgusted choruses of, 'Ew! That's just nasty.'

Fourth, half the class immediately stood up and ran outside, shrieking their panicked heads off, whilst the other class were too scared to move, shrieking their panicked heads off. As you can imagine, there was a _lot _of shrieking.

Fifth, my teacher - I'd already forgotten what her name was - went into a dead faint.

'Ew ew ew ew…' I chanted under my breath, unable to tear my eyes away from Angela's body. I stared at it with a kind of horrified fascination. Her skin was already starting to peel away, and the stench of her decomposing corpse hit me like a tow truck.

'Ugh, you stink.' I held my nose, forcing out a weak, albeit nauseated grin.

'I know!' Angela took two steps away, peering at her own body. 'Jesus, I look pretty battered, don't I? That killer guy sure bashed me up properly.'

'A BODY!' a hysterical girl screamed, eyes open wide and completely frozen on the spot.

Rosalie and Alice started laughing. 'A BODY!' Alice mimicked, clutching her sides.

'It ain't funny.' I admonished.

At that very moment, several more teachers rushed in.

'Oh Lord.' an overweight middle-aged man gasped, stopping a few metres before Angela's stationary body.

I immediately pretended to shake and shiver, putting on an expression of sheer terror. People generally think it's strange when you act perfectly normal when you find someone's dead body.

'I'm so scared.' I whispered, forcing out a few tears. Rosalie and Alice convulsed with laughter. Another female teacher quickly led me out of the classroom, sealing it off.

Phew, what a day.

--

**Rest of Body Found**

The rest of Angela Weber's, 17, body has been found in the school compound of Forks High. Police are currently withholding where and when the body was found.

Local student Bella Swan, 17, the very same student who found Weber's head four days ago in a toilet bowl, was the one who found her body. "I was just looking for some books and extra paper when the body just came tumbling out." an uncomfortable Swan says. "I'm glad they found the rest of her body, though."

Students were, once again, allowed the rest of the day off after Weber's body was discovered.

Forks High has been closed for a further three days.

**End Newspaper Article**

--

It's been two days after I found Angela's body and I'm bored to death.

There's absolutely nothing to do in Forks. This is made worse with the fact that my mother goes into hysterics if I'm out of her sight for more than five seconds, so I'm a prison in my own home.

Rosalie, Alice and Angela have been popping in and out existence for these past few days, never staying for more than a few minutes. I'm not very happy with this. Even the company of undead beings would be a far cry better than just moping about in my room alone, bored out of my wits.

Another thing to make matters worse: it. Is. So. Freaking. Hot.

I cannot understand what's happening. Isn't Forks supposed to be twenty-four-seven rainy and gloomy? What's up with this sudden sunshine?

I've opened every conceivable window and turned up the air-conditioner in my room but I'm still sweating like some pedophile in a playground.

I peeled off my jeans my changed into a pair of much more comfortable shorts, tying my hair up into a horrendously messy ponytail. I sat down on the bay window seat, panting. Yes, panting. My tongue is lolling out of my mouth and I'm making these grotesque grunting sounds with my mouth, so I guess I'm literally panting. Rivulets of sweat are running down my brow. I'm sweating in places I never knew I could sweat.

_Pop._

And there he is, in all his ruffled-shirt splendor, standing there.

'Hi.' I greeted, rather glad for the company.

Edward simply nodded to acknowledge my presence and stared out the window. There is a lot of sunshine pouring through so I don't know how he can manage looking out without burning his retinas to a crisp. Maybe it's a dead guy thing.

'Hot, isn't it?' I said conversationally, uncomfortable with the awkward silence that ensued.

'I wouldn't know.' Edward shrugged.

'You can't feel heat?' I asked, surprised and slightly embarrassed.

'No.' he turned around to look down at me, perfectly sculpted lips curving up in a delectable smile.

'Huh.' I wondered how I could've missed that in my seventeen years of ghost whispering.

'Though I'm guessing you're feeling the heat very intensely.' Edward gave my outfit a once over, then looked away, that smile still on his pale face. I squirmed, flushing. My thighs and shoulders suddenly seemed horribly bare.

'Oh.' I piped up, not particularly caring if Edward found my small talk interesting. 'Have you heard? I found the rest of Angela's body.'

A spark of interest.

'Really?' he swiftly and fluidly sat down opposite of me on the bay window seat. I was suddenly very, very aware of his presence.

Damnit, Bella! He's dead.

But that doesn't make him any less attractive.

I suddenly have this bizarre mental image. If - _if_ -by some freakish turn of events I somehow end up with Edward (highly unlikely), and I'm making out on the bed with him (blush), I picture my mum bursting in on us, only to see me, just me, rolling around on the bed, writhing in pleasure, with absolutely no one else with me. Freaky.

I blushed furiously, hating myself.

'Yeah, I found it two days ago.' I said, looking directly at his face and drinking him in leisurely. Mmm, he's delicious. 'It was already decomposed, but the weird thing was, no one smelt if before I opened the cupboard. It was as if the stench was, sort of, locked inside the cupboard, or something. Is that possible?'

'I don't see how.' Edward said, crinkling his nose. 'Does Angela know?'

'Yeah, she was the one who kind of went into this kind of trance when she sensed her body was close, I think. She kept wanting to open the cupboard, so I did it for her. And her body came tumbling out.'

'So the entire class saw you opening the cupboard with the body in it?' Edward mused, staring out again. Even the strong line of his stubble-y jaw was kind of distracting.

'Yup. Then, when the police came, they asked me all sorts of questions.'

'Don't you think involving yourself in this kind of business is…' Edward hesitated. 'dangerous?'

There's nothing I abhor more than ghosts thinking I'm not eligible enough for this rough profession.

'I'm just doing my job.' I snapped, suddenly irritable. 'I'm only helping Rosalie, Alice and Angela. I'm not doing much, anyway, they only wanted me to convey anything they remembered to the police.'

'Sorry, sorry.' Edward held up his hands defensively. 'I just want to tell you that… not everything is what it seems.'

I stared. 'Are you saying that you _know _something about their murders?'

Edward shuffled in his seat, focusing on me. I raised an eyebrow. 'I'm just telling you to be careful. Bella.' his hand slowly rested on the window panes of the bay window. The ring I noticed a week earlier glinted cheerily in the sun.

Without really knowing what I was doing, I gently took his hand in mine and touched the ring. Edward didn't stop me. I didn't look up to see what his expression was, he probably thought I was just some really, really strange girl.

There were three small diamonds embedded in the simple gold band, and I ran my finger over it, feeling the hard bumps. 'It's a beautiful ring.' I murmured. I let his hand go, and it fell down with a gentle thump.

I looked up. Edward was staring at me, his gaze electric. I blushed for the umpteenth time that afternoon. 'Sorry for touching you.' I cringed, regretting it instantly. Urgh, how mortifying.

'No, don't apologize.' Edward murmured quietly, body tensed, flexing his hand tentatively. 'It's… it's been very long since someone touched me.'

The back of my neck burned in extreme humiliation.

I opened my dry mouth to say something stupid, and then, right on cue, the three girls materialized, chatting their heads off. In that instant, Edward vanished, leaving me feeling like a dunce.

'What was _that?_' Alice's eyes were opened to the max, and she hurried over. 'What were you doing with that other ghost?'

'What other ghost?' I played dumb, still feeling like I'd just run a mile - my heart was beating _that _fast.

'I saw! You were both looking touchy feely in that seat right there.' Alice said in a wink-wink-nudge-nudge way.

'Nothing happened!' I exclaimed exasperatedly, flopping down on my bed.

'Then why're you blushing like you painted your face red?' Alice challenged.

'Alice! Remember what we came here for?' a much more frustrated looking Rosalie tapped Alice on her shoulder.

'Oh, yeah.' Alice sat down on the bed beside me. 'Bells, we have something to ask from you!'

'Fantastic.' I groaned into my bedspread, fisting the sheets. I was still replaying that hand thing in my head, overanalyzing everything. I don't know what the hell came over me. I'm not usually one of those girls that come on too strong. And it wasn't like I _wanted _to be all over Edward! He's a ghost! Why is everything so muddled and confusing?

'We want you…' Rosalie paused for dramatic effect.

'Get on with it, you.' Angela poked her.

'Okay, okay. Bella, we want you to visit Lauren!'

I lifted my head up, bewildered. 'Why?'

'Angela, Alice and I --'

'Leave me out of this! I had nothing to do with it.'

'Okay, fine! _Alice and I_ had this idea that if we visited the exact spot we were killed we might just remember something about our deaths. For now it's just a huge big blank in our memory.' Rosalie announced.

'Lauren's house? What makes you think she'll let me in?' I asked incredulously. 'I don't even know her.'

'She'll let you in.' Alice said confidently. 'Just mention our names!'

'Oh sure, that'll go over well.' I said sarcastically. '"Hey, Lauren, your dead friends Alice and Rosalie told me to come visit you! They say hi!"'

'We'll figure something out.' Rosalie shrugged, supremely confident.

I let my head flop down again, completely spent. Ugh, this is going to turn out _disastrous._


	8. Chapter 8

Sometimes, I really, really hate being a ghost whisperer.

I'm standing outside Lauren's gigantic house right now, cursing the person who was responsible for doling out ghost whisperer abilities. If only we - us poor ghost whisperers, I mean - had a choice. I mean, it wasn't like we could just shut it off. The thought that I'd probably be _plagued _by ghosts all my life simply further served to depress me.

The worst part about being a ghost whisperer is lying to my mom all the time. Seriously. I'd told Renee I was popping out for a stroll on the beach instead of making a side trip to Lauren's house some two miles away. And even then mom had made me bring her spare bottle of pepper spray and about two cellular phones, _just in case._

I really hate lying to my mom, it makes me feel like dirt.

'You really shouldn't worry so much, mom.' I'd said. She'd nearly killed me.

'There's a serial killer walking around, killing people left, right and centre and here you are telling me not to worry?' my mom was practically in hysterics.

The thing is, I _should _be scared. Ghost whisperers, for some unearthly reason, have a tendency to attract trouble. Or the attention of murderers.

I just have this feeling that the killer isn't exactly targeting me. But the killer most probably will when he - or she - finds out I've been prying.

I can take care of myself though. I have some killer moves - if you'll excuse the terrible pun - up my sleeves. Seventeen years of dealing with stubborn ghosts can teach you a whole lot about using your fists. I'm not saying I'm a particularly violent person - in fact, I'm the opposite - but I find that sometimes a good, hard punch to the jaw is far more effective than just talking if you're trying to drill some sense into a ghost.

'Alright, we're here.' Angela announced, strolling casually beside me.

'That's some house.' I mused, looking up at the tall building. Lauren's dad must have been some wicked businessman if they were able to afford this: a really big modern bungalow by this sheer cliff. Yes, a _cliff._

'Lauren's loaded.' Rosalie shrugged, and tried to press the doorbell. She grunted and groaned. The bright yellow button wouldn't budge.

'I'll do it.' I said dryly, and pushed. I didn't have a very good feeling about this trip to Lauren's house; it was going to end pretty badly, I'm sure. Excursions like this rarely ever turn out perfectly. Something was bound to go wrong.

'I'm so excited.' Alice bounced up and down. 'I seriously hope I'll be able to remember _something._'

'I highly doubt it.' I muttered, pressing the button again.

A voice crackled. 'Hello?'

I looked around. 'Um.' There wasn't anyone around.

'You're supposed to speak into this intercom thing.' Rosalie pointed, grinning. I scowled.

'I'm a friend of Lauren's, and I've come to, er, visit her.'

'Wait a moment, miss.'

I waited. 'What am I supposed to say to Lauren when I go in? This isn't going to work. She'll just send me out again.'

'Relax. We're here, aren't we?' Alice said reassuringly, patting my shoulder. This, needless to say, did not comfort me very much.

'If Lauren sics the cops on me or something, it's all your fault.' I accused sourly.

'What's with the temper?' Angela raised an eyebrow.

I hunched over. 'Never mind.'

I honestly didn't know why. After all, I'd been the one who'd agreed to help them in the first case. Even if they'd driven me nuts trying to convince me to.

'Let's just get this over with.' I sighed. 'I go in, have a little chit-chat with Lauren, and you guys quickly get to the pool or her room or whatever. Alright?'

'Yeah, yeah.'

The gabled gates of Lauren's home abruptly slid open soundlessly, admitting me in. I walked in cautiously. 'Okay, remember, don't knock anything over - '

And I bumped into something solid.

'Ouch.' I looked up, and saw with some mortification that I'd rammed into a burly officer's hard chest.

'Um.' was all I could say.

comfortable

'Name?' he asked brusquely.

This must be the one of the police officers stationed outside Lauren's home.

'Bella Swan. I'm a friend of Lauren's.' I swallowed. I'm not very at ease around officers of any kind.

He gave me a suspicious once-over. Apparently, I didn't seem the sort to hack off heads and drown teenage girls, because he jerked his head a little towards the general direction of Lauren's house. 'You can go in.'

'Thanks.' I hurried away.

'That was weird.' Alice announced. No kidding.

I walked further up, passing by Lauren's five cars, two of which were sleek Ferraris.

'Wow.'

Lauren's home was _that _beautiful. 'That is awesome.' I declared, pointing at a fountain, of which a statue of a nude woman had water spouting out of her nipples. 'I want that.' There were topiaries all over the place, and little miniature lamp posts too.

I had to walk for, believe it or not, a few minutes up this pebbled walkway before I actually reached their front door. There was a knocker on their polished wooden double doors. A knocker. I ask you.

This middle-aged lady in slacks (slacks!) answered the door.

'Hello, Mrs. Mallory.' the three of them chorused, knowing full-well the only person Mrs. Mallory could hear was me. It was a little sad, actually.

'Hello, Mrs. Mallory,' I echoed, smiling as confidently as I could.

'Hello, dear. You're one of Lauren's friends?'

The one who isn't dead yet, sure. Mrs. Mallory rubbed her exhausted red eyes, pushing the door open further to allow me in. 'Welcome. Lauren's upstairs in her room.'

'Thanks Mrs. Mallory.' I said politely, and stepped into some kind of foyer. To my amazement, they had one of those sweeping staircases you always see prom queens or princesses walk down. You know the sort. A gigantic chandelier hung above me, sparkling and glittering like a thousand diamonds.

Which seems a little over-the-top, if you ask me. I mean, this _is _Forks, after all.

'Cool.' Alice exclaimed as she flew over to an indecipherable piece of wooden driftwood on display. 'Didn't see _this _last week.'

'Up the stairs?' I asked Mrs. Mallory, who was now cradling a shot glass filled with amber liquid, eyes glimmering. Well. Could you blame her? Her daughter was in danger of being murdered, after all.

'Second door on the right.' Mrs. Mallory nodded, and downed the entire glass in one gulp. 'If you'll excuse me…' she slinked away.

'Her room's this way!' Alice skipped up the steps, humming. 'We're going to see Lauren again!'

'Yay?' a much less hyper Angela passed me, beaming.

I hurried up after them, painfully aware of the fact that I was the only one who produced the sound of footsteps on marble when the four of us made our way to Lauren's room.

We ended up in this long, brightly lit hallway. What fascinated me about this hallway was the fact that there was a huge glass window at the end of the hallway, in which you could see the bright blue ocean spread out in front of you. It was, without a doubt, a rocking view.

I knocked on Lauren's door, a little unsure. Everyone's response to a ghost whisperer varies. Some laugh, some jeer, some think I belong in a madhouse, some think it's all some sick joke. I'm thinking Lauren would probably be in the 'get-the-hell-away-from-me' category.

'Open up!' Rosalie yelled, knocking. I was surprised to see that her fist made a small but not entirely inaudible thumping noise on the solid wood. 'Hey! I made a sound!' she did it again, laughing delightedly.

Lauren's door swung open, and I was shocked to see that she wasn't alone.

'Yes?' she answered the door breathily, hair all mussed up. I stared. There was smudged lipstick all over her swollen lips, and she was currently hastily adjusting the hem of her shirt. I didn't need to be a genius to deduce that there was probably a very turned-on male in her room.

'Uh.'

'Who're you?' Lauren frowned. 'You look familiar.'

'Oh my gosh! Is that Tyler?' Alice gasped, pointing. 'Tyler-fucking-Crowley?'

It was a little distracting, explaining myself when Alice was right beside me, shrieking her head off.

'I'm Bella Swan and I sort of wanted to talk to you.' I explained. 'Is this a bad time?'

'Kind of.' Lauren's lip curled. 'Maybe you could come back another time?'

I groaned inwardly. 'The thing is, it's kind of important.'

Lauren sighed impatiently. She certainly didn't act like she'd just lost three of her best friends a few days ago. 'What's it about?'

Well. How do I put this, exactly?

'Angela, Rosalie and Lauren.'

Lauren froze.

Then, she turned around and slammed the door in my face.

Well. How nice of her.

Can't say I haven't been expecting it, though.

Just as I was about to turn back and get home, Lauren's door swung open again. This time, she tugged out a tall, indignant guy who was protesting wildly.

'Tomorrow, okay?' Lauren grunted, and pushed the guy out into the hallway. 'Come in,' she gestured to me, and I stepped inside. It was like any other typical teen's room, I guess. Except for the fact that she had a gigantic flat-screen TV attached proudly to her wall and a bed that could probably fit ten of me.

'Sorry about that.' I apologized, feeling weird.

'That's okay.' Lauren sat me down on her bed. 'So.'

'Yeah.' I exhaled, ruffling my fringe.

'You mentioned something about… them.' Lauren gulped.

Rosalie, Angela and Alice. I looked around the room. They were nowhere in sight. Probably at the pool somewhere.

'You must feel terrible.' I sympathized.

'You've no idea.' Lauren hunched further into herself. 'It's been hell.'

'I guess I just want to ask… you don't remember anything about the sleepover?'

Lauren stayed silent.

'Not really.' she said eventually.

I looked at her longer than necessary. I guess being a ghost whisperer for all these years paid off, because I could tell at once that she was lying.

'Honestly?'

Lauren shot me a suspicious glare. 'Of course I'm telling the truth. They were my best friends, after all. Are you suggesting I… I _did _something to them?'

Aha. Accusations. Another mistake. Irrational defensiveness is yet another giveaway. Lauren certainly wasn't as guileless as she pretended to be. Of course, Lauren can't be the killer but she definitely knows something.

_This_ is getting interesting.

'I see.' I bobbed my head. 'You must be really scared. Jessica's terrified.'

'Yes. Yeah, I am. I can't sleep at night, you know.' Lauren said quietly, blinking rapidly. 'I keep thinking back to that night. I haven't swam in a pool since, too.'

'Jessica told me you have, like, thirty officers around your home.' I leaned back, trying to make myself comfortable. Which wasn't exactly hard. Lauren had pillows all over the place.

'Yeah. Like they're any use.' Lauren gave a half-hearted snort.

'What d'you mean?' I raised an eyebrow.

'Nothing.' Lauren muttered hastily, evidently fearful that she'd given away too much.

'Jessica told me something like that, too.'

'What?'

'She didn't think the officers would… you know, be enough to keep the killer away.' I told her, picking up a yellow star-shaped pillow and squeezing it.

Without any warning, Lauren burst into tears.

'Whoa.' I stared. She collapsed in a small heap and sobbed.

This is awkward. I never know how to comfort crying people. Which is weird, for me. You'd think seventeen years as a ghost whisperer would at least make me comfortable around crying or depressed people.

'Don't cry.' I said weakly, and patted her back gently.

'I just… don't know what's happening!' Lauren let out a cry of despair. 'Those murders, and… and…' tears poured down her face.

'Um.' I gave her a one-armed hug. 'I understand, kind of.'

'No, you don't!' Lauren wailed, crying like her whole world was falling apart. It probably was, actually.

'Sure, I do.' I handed her a piece of Kleenex. She batted it away hysterically.

'Something's wrong with me.' Lauren grabbed my shoulders in a very unsettling way. My eyes widened. 'And I can't tell anyone.'

'Try me.'

'You won't believe me. It's way bizarre.' Lauren gulped.

I laughed darkly. 'Oh, trust me, I've had my fair share of bizarre. I can probably handle yours.'

Lauren coughed, wiping mucus unattractively off her face. I handed her another piece of Kleenex, and this one she accepted gratefully.

After making sure her face was all clean, she opened her mouth and began to talk.

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**Author's Note: **Heehee! Review, guys! Don't forget! (: The more reviews, the faster I'll update!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **Urgh, sorry for the long, long wait! :D My exams are finally over! *lifts up pom-poms and celebrates* yay! (: Hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

* * *

'That night…' Lauren began slowly, looking all shifty and uncomfortable.

'Yeah…?'

'When… Alice and Rosalie died…'

'Yeah…?' I prompted.

'I… um…' Lauren stuttered.

I was getting really annoyed, to be honest. I mean, really, stop beating around the bush. Just spit it out, already. Of course, I didn't say any of this out loud. I imagine Lauren wouldn't be quite as enthusiastic to share her little secrets with me if I did.

'Yes?' I said testily.

'I didn't feel like myself.' Lauren said in a rush.

'How interesting.' I said dryly.

'Don't mock me!' Lauren exploded. 'What I'm telling you is relevant, okay?'

'Well, it's natural you wouldn't feel yourself. Your two best friends just got killed, after all.' I explained, feeling a little cheated. And here I was thinking this would clear up everything for me. Turns out Lauren only felt a little zonked out that night. It's normal, anyhow.

'That's _not _what I meant!' Lauren rolled her eyes, throwing her hands up in exasperation. 'I felt… really weird. I mean…' she turned a delicate shade of scarlet.

'What's wrong?'

'It was like I…' Lauren stopped again, looking puzzled. 'Something's not right.'

'Um.'

'I felt like I was…' she trailed off again, clutching her throat, panicked.

I glanced at my watch. It was nearing dinnertime. 'I don't have all day, you know.'

Lauren glared. 'Go, then! Since you won't even listen. Please don't come back and visit, have a nice life.'

I hopped off her bed, sighing. I don't think there's anything else here. Another dead end. 'Buh-bye.' I waggled my fingers at her, already thinking about dinner. Mmm, I hope Mom makes her signature meatballs again.

Lauren gave an irritated snort and slammed her door behind me after I left. I would've just stalked right off if there wasn't someone else outside the door.

This ghost was a pretty strange one, as far as ghosts went. And trust me, ghosts can get pretty weird. It was a rather young girl, sporting a very unattractive case of acne. She was definitely from my time - that is, not wearing hoopskirts or ribbons in her hair. She was wearing torn-up jeans and a black Grateful Dead T-shirt. She was weird because she was standing right outside Lauren's door, shoving her ear against the wooden door and pressing her entire body against it, grunting as she pushed.

I stared, jaw slackening a little. 'Um. What're you doing?'

The ghost jumped like I'd pressed a hundred-volt Taser against her temples. 'Arrrrgh--'

'Hi. Bella Swan, resident ghost whisperer.' I stuck out my hand, reeling off my name and profession. I made sure I spoke softly enough, though. You know, just in case Lauren was listening. 'What's your name? You need any help… er, doing whatever you're doing?'

'You can _see _me?' she peered at me behind her glasses a mile thick. She was definitely the sort of girl you sort of saw drifting around, but you didn't notice much. The kindest thing you could say about her hair - which was twisted up into a bun at the nape of her neck - was that it _existed_.

'Yeah. Duh.' I rolled my eyes. The slowness of some ghosts astounds me. 'You know, if you want to get in, there's a doorknob, right?'

'Fuck!' she cursed. There was a split-second's pause as the both of us stared at each other, and she vanished.

Argh, some ghosts are completely insufferable.

I stomped down those enormous stairs again, fuming. I feel like giving up, really. Leave it to the police to solve this. I'm biting off more than I can chew.

The guy making out with Lauren just now - Tyler, I think - was moping around the stairs, looking miserable.

'Lauren's free now.' I pointed at the general direction of Lauren's room, huffing. 'Have fun.'

Tyler stared at me with ice-blue eyes. He remained silent. He was creeping me out, to be honest.

'Um. Yeah. Bye.' I bid a hasty goodbye and hurried off. The sound of Tyler's heavy steps thumping slowly up the staircase told me he'd gone back to Lauren's room, after all.

Oh. I forgot Alice, Rosalie and Angela. I vaguely remembered them telling me they were paying their death place a little visit. The pool, was it?

I looked around, lost. I didn't know what I was looking for. A sign with the words "SWIMMING POOL THIS WAY, IDIOT", maybe?

Oh my god. No way.

Is that a lift?

I practically bounced over, encapsulated in joy. A lift! In a house! How unreal is this?

It's very shiny. The metal doors are so clear that it doubles as a pretty awesome mirror. I preened myself for a moment before pressing the 'Up' button. I'm pretty sure it's somewhere near the roof.

My lower jaw permanently attached itself to the ground as I discovered that there was a plush seat right in the middle of the lift. Red velvet! RED VELVET!

Lauren is so lucky.

--

'Hello!' I cupped my hands around my mouth, shouting. The pool _was _on the roof. I fought the urge to tug all my clothes off and dive into the pretty, glimmering blue water as I walked around on the hot tiles, searching.

'We're right here!' Alice's soprano voice cried out. I didn't see her anywhere, until --

'Thanks a lot.' I said wryly. I'd been drenched from head to toe with pool water when the three of them exploded from the calm surface. 'What the heck were you guys doing underwater?'

'Trying to trigger a memory.' Alice shrugged. 'It's so cool that we don't need to breathe underwater.'

'Real cool.' Angela and Rosalie beamed. Being ghosts, not an inch of them seemed damp.

'So, you guys remember anything?'

'Nada. Zip. Zilch.' Alice sighed. 'The pool is bitching, though.'

I laughed. 'So. This is where you died.'

'This is where we died.' Rosalie repeated, somber.

'At least it was in an Olympic-sized pool, as opposed to stinking toilet water.' Angela made a very good point, scowling. 'I'd like to give that murderer of mine a little talking to after they find him.'

I stood at the edge, and glanced up, shielding my eyes from the sun with a lazy hand. 'You can see Lauren's room from here.'

'Yeah. Pretty awesome.'

'Yeah.'

My eyes judged the distance between Lauren's room and the pool.

'Lauren didn't wake up until you guys died?'

'No, she heard us screaming and she came over.' Alice corrected. 'I read the newspaper article.'

'You guys don't remember any of that, though, right?' I peered at them. They shimmered ever so slightly in the mild sunlight.

'Nah.' Angela's eyes widened. 'Are you accusing Lauren?'

Alice snorted. 'Lauren would _never _do that. _Never._'

'No way!' Rosalie agreed, looking horrified at the very notion. 'That's sick. None of our friends would ever betray us.'

'How can you be so sure?' I asked, skeptical. I'd seen plenty of people turn on their lovers or friends or even family members plenty of times before. It wasn't completely impossible.

'Because!' Angela seemed rather pissed. 'We've known Lauren since second-grade, I know her better than my own _brother_. Lauren would _never _do that. She has no possible motive, either. You can't prove that at all.'

I thought carefully. 'Was she jealous of you guys in any way?'

'No! _We _were jealous of _her.' _Rosalie explained. 'I mean, of course we were! She has everything! You've seen her house.'

'Alright, alright.' I raised my hands. 'I don't think it's her anymore, alright?'

Of course, that wasn't true. After Lauren had acted so neurotic back in her room, I couldn't exactly bump her off my list of Possible Killers.

'We should go --'

A very loud crash interrupted my sentence. A really, _really _loud crash. Like, explode your eardrums loud.

My head whipped around towards the source of the crash, heart thudding like crazy. _What the hell was happening?_

What I saw next was something I could've definitely lived without.

Remember that huge window I saw at the end of the hallway when I was heading to Lauren's room? The really big one overlooking the sea? Yeah, _that _one.

It was exploding into millions of tiny pieces right this second.

The innumerable shards were flying through the air, soaring and glinting in the sunlight. A few were shooting this way, and with a wild yell I threw myself to the ground, shielding my face with my hands. A few sharp, jagged pieces bounced off my back and shoulders harmlessly. Behind me, I heard Alice/Angela/Rosalie (I couldn't tell which one) shout, 'Hey, one went right through me! Awesome!'

I probably would've laughed myself silly if the current situation was so damned bizarre. There was tiny little splintering and tinkling everywhere. When the sounds subsided, I lifted up my head, feeling completely disoriented. Girls getting their heads hacked off? Teenagers drowned? Windows _exploding_? What kind of town _was _this?

I picked myself up the ground, shaking. The three of them were still standing at the same spot, mouths open in shock. 'That window just exploded.' Alice pointed unnecessarily.

'No shit, Sherlock.' Angela hurried over to the edge, lifting herself up a little so she was floating in the air.

I followed her warily, looking at the big, empty hole where the huge sheet of glass used to be. Where was Lauren? She _must _have heard that crash. She'd have to have had her ears hacked off and legally deaf if she didn't.

Was that a gunshot of some sort? Things were getting really freaky around here.

Alice and Rosalie were at the edge before I was, staring down.

'Oh, my God.' Rosalie breathed, and clapped a hand to her mouth.

'What's wrong?' I didn't understand what was so horrible about shattered glass at the bottom of a cliff.

'Come see.' Angela beckoned, voice faint.

I perched myself precariously at the edge - the Mallorys really should get some sort of fence around the pool - and looked down.

I saw a huge, beautiful cliff. I saw a huge, glittering sea, looking undisturbed. I saw plenty of glass here and there. I saw a small portion of white beach at the bottom of the cliff.

I moved myself a little bit to see more clearly.

Then I saw a crumpled body lying haphazardly on the sandy strip of beach, limbs bent at an impossible angle and lying terrifying still.

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**Author's Note: **I'm sorry about the length! :D It's just that it was the perfect place to end, you know. :) Alright, review! Reviews = faster update! Sorry I didn't keep my promise the last chapter but I swear I'll update quicker this time! :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **Yay! Chapter ten! Keep reading! I'm not sure I quite pulled off the crime processing part but I did some research on it (thanks, Google!) and I think I did ... okay... :D Enjoy!

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'Oh my God.'

I gritted my teeth and buried my head deeper under my pillow.

'Oh my God.'

I shut my eyes tight and tried unsuccessfully to drown out Alice's voice.

'Oh… my God.'

'Alice.' I lifted my head up and glared at Alice, who was sitting by the bay window and hugging her knees. 'Could you please shut up?'

Apparently Alice didn't hear me, because she let out another, '_Oh… my… God_.'

'Arghh.' I groaned and slumped down, trying to think.

'Leave her be, she's just seen a close friend _die_.' Rosalie snapped, eyes rimmed red and her hands rhythmically patting Angela on her back. 'Cut her some slack, will you?'

'Just let me think for a moment.' I said levelly, burying my head back in the comfy midst of my pillows. I was aching - literally aching; my muscles were completely worn out - for a good snooze but I was struggling not to fall asleep.

'What a day, huh?' Angela said in a crackly voice, pushing back her straggly hair. I didn't know if ghosts were capable of getting baths but Angela definitely needed one. And she was right, it'd been one heck of a day.

'Oh my God.'

'What're you thinking about?' Rosalie asked begrudgingly.

'Trying to figure things out.' I rolled over on my back, sighing. 'Which is why I --'

'Figure what out?' a male voice cut smoothly through my conversation. I didn't even bother to look to see who it was; I already knew.

'Who the hell are you?' Alice yelped and jumped off the bay window seat, freaked.

'Edward Cullen, I died in 1918 of the Spanish Influenza, I currently reside in Bella's bedroom.' I could practically hear the stupid smirk in his voice.

'This guy _lives _in your _room_?' Angela's eyes just about popped out of her eye sockets.

'Unfortunately.' I said.

'You never told us that!' Alice accused, apparently over her endless "Oh my God" spiel.

'I wasn't aware it was very important.' I rolled my eyes in the dark, flushing a little.

'Of course it's important!'

'It really isn't.'

'So, what're you ladies figuring out, again?' Edward leaned against the bay window frame, face partially silhouetted in the dark. I could kind of see his jaw line and nose, but that was it. I was a little disappointed, to be honest. I mean, I'm not saying I'm feeling anything for him, but it would've cheered me up a little in a very shallow way if I got to see an Adonis after such a hellish day.

'Figuring out exactly what happened this afternoon, that's what.' I grumpily sat up and dangled my feet over the edge of my bed, watching the now scratched and chipped turquoise varnish glint in the moonlight. Then I remembered - Edward didn't know anything.

'What happened this afternoon?' he asked, interest piqued.

I rolled over again, not caring (much) that my butt probably looked completely horrendous stuck up in the air like that. 'Blearghhhhhh.

'I'll explain.' Alice volunteered readily.

--

**Seven Hours Earlier**

'Fucking hell.' I swore, suddenly feeling very out of breath. 'That's… that's a person down there. A person. On the beach. Fucking hell. It's not moving.'

'What the hell are we still doing standing around?' Rosalie screeched. Before I could blink, the three of them magically disappeared. I looked down, and saw their shimmery figures now crowded around the person's stationary form.

Shit! It's all fine and dandy for ghosties who can just materialize anywhere they want to but _I _have to figure out some way to get down there.

Argh, where do I go now?

'Bethany!' someone screamed. My head whipped around instinctively, and I saw Lauren's blonde head poke out from the jagged edges of the huge, shattered window. Even from a distance I could see that Lauren was _this_ close to completely freaking out and hyperventilating. Okay, so that rules out Lauren as being the possibly dead on (gulp) on the beach below. 'Bethany!'

'My name is _Bella!_'

'Oh God, Bethany, I… I--' she yelled, shaking visibly. 'Could you please get over here? As quickly as possible? Please?'

--

I thundered up a very long flight of shiny marble stairs, wildly trying to remember which way it was to Lauren's room.

'Shit!' I swore out loud for no reason at all. I was very lost.

Well. How nice. A person just fell off a seventy-foot cliff, a teenage girl is very close to losing it and I'm here, wandering around in a gigantic mansion, unable to do anything productive.

They should revoke my mediator license, honestly.

'What on _earth _is going on here?' a very irate voice called out. I almost gave myself whiplash turning around to see who it was. 'Here I was, taking my afternoon nap and this god-awful crash wakes me up--'

'Mrs. Mallory!' I gasped, nearly crying in relief. 'Where's Lauren's room?'

Her red eyes stared. 'Don't tell me you still can't find it!'

'Mrs. Mallory… something bad's happened. Like, really, really bad. I need to get to Lauren's room, _now._ You should to, now that I think about it.'

'What's happened_ now_?' she grumbled, irritated.

'Just show me Lauren's room.'

--

'Jesus fucking Christ --' Mrs. Mallory started to swear when she led me up to the hallway where Lauren's room was. I'm guessing she'd seen the broken window. 'The window's destroyed! Who the hell did this? Do you have _any _idea how much that much glass _cost_? If that boyfriend of Lauren's has anything to do with this-- darling! What're you doing, crouching by the window!? Get away, Lauren! You could fall!'

I hurried down the hallway, heart thudding like crazy.

'Don't go near that window, you stupid girl!'

'Bethany!' Lauren let out a weak cry. I didn't bother to correct her.

'Lauren, honey, how did this happen?'

'Mrs. Mallory? You might want to get a look at this.' I gulped, my sneakers crackling ominously on splintered glass. I was clutching the sides of the window, making sure I didn't end up like… whoever it was down below. But I was pretty sure what had just transpired wasn't an accident. Not a chance.

'_What_?' Mrs. Mallory stumbled over.

I pointed, a light breeze tugging at my hair.

'What do you want me to see--' her voice trailed off. Lauren's sobs grew louder.

Mrs. Mallory turned away, hand clapped to her mouth. 'I'll get the cops.'

My hands were bleeding when I finally felt calm enough to unclench my hands from the jagged window frame.

--

'Bella!' Angela screamed and waved us over. Well, waved _me _over. I highly doubt Mrs. Mallory and Lauren could see three recently deceased teenage girls huddled around another soon-to-be deceased person. 'Over here!'

'There!' Mrs. Mallory picked up her skirts and ran. Lauren lagged behind, running an letting out half-formed sobs at the same time.

'Come one, hurry up!' I grabbed her hand and pulled her along.

'Bethany!' she moaned, collapsing into the sand.

'Bella!'

'Bella!' she finally amended. 'I have-- I have something to tell you.'

'Not now!' I forcibly tugged her up.

'It's important!' Lauren wailed, looking quite distressed.

'Can it please wait?' I let her go and ran after Mrs. Mallory myself, ignoring Lauren's other cries.

'He doesn't look too good.' Alice said in a strangled voice, stepping back to give me more room.

I knelt down in front of Tyler's terrifyingly broken body, feeling like heaving up all over the sand. I really didn't want to, anyhow. The sand was really pretty. You know, all white and stuff.

'Oh my God.' Mrs. Mallory stared, frozen.

Tyler had evidently landed face-down in the sand with his limbs splayed out around him. There were cuts all over his hands (lacerations by the glass, probably) and both his legs looked very broken. He wasn't bleeding, either, but that could mean internal bleeding. He didn't appear to be breathing. Alice was right, he didn't look too good.

I gently pressed two fingers to Tyler's neck, desperately feeling for a pulse.

'Don't move him!' I snapped at Rosalie, who was valiantly trying to push Tyler over so he could breathe.

'I'm not touching him!' Mrs. Mallory cried.

Lauren had caught up now, and she sank to her knees, panting and sniffling. 'How--how is he?'

'Not looking too good.' I echoed Alice's words grimly. I didn't feel anything beneath my fingers, not even a faint judder. 'Wait--'

There it was! Probably a pulse weaker than a week-old corpse's, but there it was!

'He's alive!' I announced.

'Mrs. Mallory! We're here!' I turned; a bunch of people were running over, most of them with the yellow words FPD (Forks Police Department?) stamped across their backs.

'Step away from the body, please.' a stormy-faced man shooed us away and quickly started surrounding Tyler's body with "Police Line - Do Not Cross" black and yellow tape, sealing us off.

'He's still alive!' I told a medic that was hurrying over to Tyler's body. 'He still has a pulse!'

The medic turned on me like a hawk. 'Have you touched the body?'

'Only to feel his pulse --'

'Good. Leave the rest of it to us, miss.'

All of us -- me, Lauren, Mrs. Mallory, Alice, Rosalie and Angela -- watched silently as more and more people started swarming around the beach.

'This cannot be happening.' Mrs. Mallory said faintly. She reached over to give Lauren a shaky hug. 'Oh, darling, you've know idea how grateful I am that it isn't _you _lying on the beach there--'

'Don't!' Lauren screeched loudly, pushing Mrs. Mallory away. 'Stop!'

'Stop doing what?' Mrs. Mallory was bewildered.

'Mrs. Mallory, Miss Mallory?' a nice-looking woman strode over, wearing a neat blue uniform. 'I'm Officer Simone Wheeler from FPD and I'm an crime scene technician - that is, to say, that I'm the one who interviews witnesses. I'm very sorry this has happened. I'll have to question all three of you for additional crime scene processing.' she gave us each an apologetic look. 'I understand that you've been through a rough shock, but this is a standard procedure and we'll need… additional information.'

'Yes.' I helped a silent Mrs. Mallory and Lauren to answer.

'Thank you. Ma'am? Would you like to sit down?' Simone Wheeler gently led the three of us to a small umbrella-seat-thing a little ways from where all the other cops where milling about. I could see a few flashes of a camera. Needless to say, the three undead ones followed to, chattering nervously.

'I really, really hope he's okay --' Alice said fervently.

'I think he's a goner.' Rosalie said bluntly.

'Don't say that!' an agitated Angela gave Rosalie a small punch on her upper arm.

'Okay, first things first,' Simone Wheeler whipped out a small notebook she kept in her breast pocket. 'Full names, age, address.'

'Bella Swan. Seventeen. I'm… a friend of Lauren's and I just came over to visit. I live um, off the main street. Somewhere near the forest. You know La Push Beach?'

'That solitary house right there?' Simone Wheeler nodded, scribbling furiously. 'Why the pause between "I'm" and "a friend of Lauren's"?'

'We just met so I don't know if I'm qualified as her friend.' I shrugged slightly.

'Now, you're the one who found Angela Weber's head in a toilet bowl a week or so ago, am I right?' Simone stopped writing long enough to give me an undecipherable stare.

'Yes.' I nodded.

'Interesting.'

'Bree Mallory, I live here. I'm fifty-two.' Mrs. Mallory supplied succinctly, burying her wasted face in her shaking hands.

Lauren stayed silent, looking absolutely terrified.

'Lauren?' I lightly nudged her. She jumped a mile, yelping. Jesus.

'Lauren Mallory.' Simone Wheeler gave her a very sympathetic look. 'I understand you've been through four deaths in the last two weeks alone?'

Lauren jerked her head a little. I suppose it could've passed off as a nod.

'Okay, who was the one who found the body first?'

I turned towards Lauren. 'It's either me or her, I guess.'

'Where were you at the time of this accident?'

'I was up by the pool. You have a clear view of the window there. I was just… checking out the pool,' I gave Lauren a sheepish look, but she was staring down at her lap. 'then I heard something explode. It was the window, of course. Then Lauren sort of poked her head out from the broken window hole thing and called my name. She asked me to get over there.'

'Okay. Uh-hmm.' Simone Wheeler wrote frantically.

'I was in my room having a nap.' Mrs. Mallory said quietly.

'Right. Lauren?'

Lauren lifted her head, looking very much like a deer caught in headlights.

'Lauren?' Simone coaxed soothingly.

'I…' she stuttered, grabbing the edges of the plastic table.

'I don't think she's fit for questioning, officer.' Mrs. Mallory placed a protective hand on her daughter's shoulders, and Lauren shook it off violently.

'I understand completely.' Simone Wheeler nodded quickly, looking faintly put out.

'I did it, okay?' Lauren exploded.


	11. Chapter 11

'Pardon me for interrupting,' Edward cut in. 'But if this Lauren girl already admitted to killing Trowley--'

'Tyler.' Rosalie corrected automatically. Alice clicked her tongue impatiently, eager to continue her tale.

'--Tyler, then what're you still trying to figure out?' Edward crossed his arms. 'Should be an open and shut case, from what I see. But please do correct me if I'm wrong.'

'It's not _that _simple.' I argued. 'It's definitely not Lauren. I can feel it.'

'Yeah, we _know_ Lauren, it's not her. No way.' Angela nodded quickly.

'There's something weird going on here.' I agreed.

'Interesting.' was all Edward said.

'Let Alice continue and you'll see.'

'All right.' Alice cleared her throat. 'As I was saying…'

--

I hate awkward silences.

I've had my fair share, you know? When you're forced to chat to someone you don't know, when you're on your first date with a boy named Jiminy and you have no idea what to say or what to do, when you've had a gigantic argument with someone and you're forced to face that person again…

Yeah. Not a big fan of them.

So when this uncomfortably awkward silence descended when Lauren made her crazy confession, I started fidgeting. Mrs. Mallory literally froze. Right on the spot. Her hand was glued to Lauren's shaking shoulder. Simone Wheeler looked unmoved. And Lauren shivered and shook, waiting for our reaction. I wasn't sure what she was expecting.

Officer Simone Wheeler was the one who grimly broke it. The silence, I mean.

'Mrs. Mallory, I'm afraid we will have to detain your daughter.'

'What?' Mrs. Mallory turned her head, face immediately draining of any color. Her pallor sort of reminded me of dirty three-week-old white socks. You know, how they get all grayish and brown and stuff. Pretty nasty, all in all.

We were interrupted for a bit as a few medics hurried by, carrying Tyler's limp body on a hospital stretcher. I watched as they lifted him onto a throbbing, wailing ambulance and sped away, sand kicking. Lauren placed her head in her hands and breathed heavily.

'Did you just say you were going to "detain" my daughter?' Mrs. Mallory repeated, rising up.

'Mrs. Mallory, I apologize but this is necessary. I'm not going to keep her in a cell, don't worry, I'll just need to bring her in for further questioning. Please don't fret. It's just a standard procedure, that's all. I'm sorry.'

Mrs. Mallory started screeching. A load of stuff about "shit police procedures" and "to hell with you" and "unfair system".

I started getting _really _awkward. I mean, I didn't even know these people and here I was getting caught up in their drama. I just wanted to get back home as fast as possible and tell the three undead ones Nope, sorry, can't help you anymore. So I leaned as far as possible from a spitting Mrs. Mallory. No really, she was literally spitting. I could feel little speckles and flecks of froth catapult themselves spectacularly from the furiously working gob of Mrs. Mallory. Simone Wheeler had to be taking a spit shower right now.

'Mrs. Mallory, your daughter has just claimed that she killed that young man over there!' Simone Wheeler pointed towards where Tyler's body had just been lying a few minutes ago. When she realized said body wasn't there anymore, she turned back again.

'She didn't do it! How dare you accuse--'

'Mrs. Mallory, please, calm down.' Simone Wheeler spoke as reassuringly as she could, but I could see muscles working beneath her very tense jaw line. If Miss Simone here weren't an officer, Mrs. Mallory would be lying on the floor right now with a knuckle-shaped bruise on her face, out for the count. 'I'm not accusing her of anything. She might be innocent but we can't rule out the possibility of her having something to do with that young man's murder!'

'He's not dead yet.' I said automatically, the words popping out before I could contain them.

Simone Wheeler and Mrs. Mallory's heads swiveled to look. Or in Mrs. Mallory's case, glare with a passionate hatred.

I shrugged casually. 'He's not dead yet.' I repeated. 'I checked his pulse just now. Still there.'

'He might die on the way to the hospital. He was banged up pretty bad.' Simone Wheeler showed me just what a ray of sunshine she could be. 'Can't be too optimistic yet.'

Mrs. Mallory sucked in a ragged breath. 'I'm not having my daughter lugged in your police station like some… some… _criminal_!'

'She's not going to be incarcerated. We'd just like to bring her in for further questioning. Mrs. Mallory, a teenage boy is _dead, _and you--'

'I beg to differ!' I piped up.

Simone took a deep breath, calming herself. '--a teenage boy is _close to death_--' she shot me one of those are-you-_happy_-now looks. I gave her a _now_-I-am look in return. '--and you won't even let us question your daughter? Your daughter is more or less willing but because she's a minor I'll need a parent or guardian's consent.'

It took decades and decades for Mrs. Mallory to make her decision. We waited, sound of cameras clicking and people talking lowly filling the background. Oh, and waves crashing against the sand, too.

'Fine.' she muttered, sinking down in her seat and gripping Lauren's hand. This time, she didn't pull away.'

'Thank you, Mrs. Mallory. Now, let's finish this up…'

--

It was about two hours later when we were finally allowed to go. I was all stressed out; answering questions from cops did that to me. I didn't know why I was so jumpy - I wasn't even close to guilty this time. Other times I was subjected to a police's questioning was back when I was in NY, still busting into people's home and trespassing properties.

'Ink won't come off.' I sighed and rubbed my fingers against my jacket as furiously as I could.

'Sorry about that.' Simone Wheeler gave me a half smile. She tidied up her nifty fingerprinting kit, zipping up a bag. 'I'm also sorry I kept you guys here for so long.'

'It's okay.' my eyes followed Mrs. Mallory and Lauren's hasty exit from the beach. They hurried over to the end of the beach and trudged up a small road, going back to their mansion. Guess Mrs. Mallory couldn't be bothered about me, huh?

'Hey. Can I… watch the examining process for a bit?' I asked, hands in my pockets, still unconsciously fingering the ugly blue stains on my fingertips.

Simone Wheeler looked up from her huge blue bag with FPD printed on it in huge white block letters that almost glowed. 'You want to watch us… examine the crime scene?'

'Yeah. Can I? I won't touch anything.'

'You don't seem very bothered by your friend's death.' she observed, voice neither accusing nor playful. 'Most people wouldn't want to go _near _the examination site.'

'I wasn't very close to him before…' I trailed off, realizing I sounded like some cold-hearted bitch who didn't give a shit about people who might've popped their clogs. 'I'm just… I'd like to be a forensic detective when I grow up, you know?' I fibbed spectacularly. 'I read a lot of Agatha Christie, and, um, Patricia Cromwell. It's interesting.'

'Huh.' Simone Wheeler peered at me behind her spectacles. 'I guess I could give you five minutes. But stay five feet away. You're not supposed to touch anything. Who knows, it might've been you pushed him down and now you want to tidy up after yourself all by sneaking some crucial piece of evidence in those pockets of yours.'

I didn't even know if she was serious or not. I decided then that Simone Wheeler was one heck of an officer. 'Um. Funny. Heh heh.' my nervous laughter sounded like a goat's pathetic bleat.

The sun was setting. Renee would _annihilate _me. I'd be a pile of smoking Bella ashes the moment I set foot in my house.

And I really wasn't looking forward to telling Mom I'd been involved in an almost-murder. Again. _Hey Mom, guess what, I saw someone else (_almost) _die today. It was cool. _Mom would have a coronary. No, she'd strangle me with her bare hands first, _then_ have a coronary and drop dead beside me.

Simone trudged away, and I trailed behind, making sure I kept five feet behind. Man, there really was a lot of glass here on the beach. Anyone running around here Baywatch-style better watch out, because their feet were going to be torn to shreds by the time they took three steps.

There were even more people crowded inside that police tape than I remembered - forty people at least. They'd set up huge lights all over the place because it was getting dark, and there were those little number tag things here and there. To mark evidence, I guess?

I looked up at the big gaping hole in the mansion, where the window used to be. There weren't any officers up there yet, I guess they'd tackle that area later. It was a pretty sheer drop. Tyler must've been terrified when he was falling. It must've taken… what, twenty seconds? Fifteen? Ten? Jesus.

'Miss? What're you doing here, miss? You're not authorized personnel, are you?' a suspicious looking officer walked over, hands on his walkie-talkie thing strapped at his paunchy waist.

'I was just leaving.' I said after a pause. He didn't take his eyes off me until he was sure I was well and truly leaving.

Glass crunched beneath my sneakers. I turned back to give that creepy-looking empty window one more glance.

Then I looked closer.

I was pretty far away at this point, so I can't really be sure about what I saw.

It might've been a trick of the orange sunset light.

I might've been hallucinating.

I saw that other ghost I saw earlier, the one hanging around outside of Lauren's room, leaning against the shattered edges of the window and looking down at the milling officers below. A glowing figure in the black abyss of the window.

She pushed back her hair. Smiled.

--

'Damn, that's creepy.' Angela shuddered, wrapping her hands around herself as though the temperature in the room had just dropped.

'Weird, isn't it?' I flopped back in my bed, sighing and clutching at my pillows and sheets. Renee hated it when I did this. She liked it when it was all neat and proper corners, but I preferred sleeping on it when the pillows and soft sheets were one jumbled little bundle.

Edward looked around at us incredulously. 'You're not serious.'

'We're dead serious.' Alice said. Then she cringed. 'Sorry, that was a horribly inappropriate pun.'

'So Tyler's still alive?' Rosalie questioned, expression sad.

'Hope so. Poor guy. Poor Jessica. Poor… who else is in your little clique group thing?'

'We're not a _clique_.' Angela corrected me with a hint of tired scorn. 'We're just a bunch of really good friends.'

'Mike Newton, Jazzy, Emmett, Jessica…and Lauren. Yeah, that's about it. God, that's depressing. Three dead, one dying, four going to die, one going crazy.' Alice's eyes were hooded and she bowed her head.

'Don't say that!' Rosalie was horrified. 'They're _not _going to be next! I don't know what sicko's been offing us one by one, but Bella's here going to stop it, right? Right, Bella?'

What else could I do but tell them that I was definitely going to get to the bottom of this?

So that's what I did.

'That ghost character's rather shady.' Edward mused, rubbing his chin. Ooh, I wonder if he has stubble. I think stubble is as sexy as hell--

Okay, must stop this train of thought.

'Yeah. Pretty much.' my brain started racing again -- almost painfully.

'I have a theory.' Edward announced after a few moments of silence.

'Pray tell.' I mumbled, already half-asleep.

'Have you ever considered…possession?'

The word hung in the air.

I groaned and shot up, throwing my pillows off of me.

'Oh God, how could I have been so _stupid_?'

* * *

**Author's Note: **You like? ;D

Oh my God, look! To the right! A green/white rectangular button! I wonder what it does...


	12. Chapter 12

'I would've figured it out sooner or later, you know.'

All Edward did was smile benignly. You know, _that _kind of smile. Those smiles that just say oh-okay-whatever-you-say-darling. Which didn't do a whole lot to improve my mood. I mean, I was already seriously crabby from getting next-to-no sleep last night. _And _my period came. So he wasn't really helping.

I got out of bed, maybe stomping my feet on the ground harder than I would've.

Okay, yeah, I was angry at myself. Pissed, even. Could you blame me? I was, after all, supposed to be the kind-of-expert here. What with my sixteen years of experience, and all that. I honestly don't know why I didn't think of possession earlier. It was obvious. It was _more _than obvious, damn it. It was almost staring at me right in the face, and Edward here had figured it out in – what, a few minutes? Argh.

But there was still a chance that possession wasn't, in fact, the answer. It's pretty rare, possession. The ghost has to be pretty darn strong to be able to properly possess a healthy, live person. Ghosts get stronger the longer they're dead, and that spotty ghost I'd seen in Lauren's house seemed like she'd died only recently.

I've only come across one case of possession before, and that was when I was about twelve. The old woman living below me in my then apartment got possessed by the ghost of a seventeen-year-old boy who'd committed suicide. She'd started acting all weird and stuff. Weird as in she locked herself in her apartment twenty-four-seven and strangled all three of her cats and left their furry carcasses on our doorstep. Mom was pretty freaked out by that. Then the old woman – I still remember her name. Mrs. Breech or something. She smelt like talcum – went to the rooftop of our apartment and jumped. The sound she made when her frail body hit the pavements below was really disturbing. Me and Renee, we rushed down. By the time we got out of our apartment building, a bunch of people had already started crowding around Mrs. Breech.

It's funny how normal people get so equally fascinated and horrified by something as normal as death. It happens all the time. Get used to it. But maybe I'm only saying that because I see death all the time.

Anyway, Mrs. Breech was lying face down on the cement pavement, and I saw this shimmery thing detach itself from her broken body. I'd assumed it was Mrs. Breech's ghost. I still remember thinking _Oh, man, not another one. _Then I noticed the shimmery thing was male, vaguely muscular and definitely not Mrs. Breech. 'What're you doing in her body?' I had asked out loud, astonished. Renee shook my shoulder, not understanding what I was saying. The teenage boy brushed imaginary lint of his ghostly body, smiled at me and said, 'I was bored and I had nothing else to do.'

I figured that seventeen-year-old boy had to have some pretty pent up vengeance and anger in himself to be able to possess someone like that. Then again, Mrs. Breech had been old and weak. I think the sickest part of possession is bending someone to your will like that. Feeling so powerless in your own body must be horrible.

Yeah. So possession isn't exactly pleasant.

'I know you would've.' Edward said blandly, settling himself in his favorite bay window seat.

'Would've what?' I said vaguely, jolted out of my reminiscing.

'Would've figured it out sooner or later.' His tone was so engaging that I didn't know whether he was making fun of me or not.

'Erm – thanks?' I fumbled around with a woolen pair of socks, tugging them on my feet. The thick, rolling mist I saw out of my room window the minute I woke up didn't look very promising.

'You are, after all, the expert in these fields.' Edward didn't look at me as he spoke. Okay, now he was _definitely _poking fun at me.

'What? You want a pat on your back and a gold medal for figuring it out first?' I snapped, losing my patience. I'd wanted to be on civil terms with him – he was, after all, living in my bedroom. If we _weren't _on civil terms things would get pretty awkward.

Edward merely smiled, a trace of cockiness behind those crooked, upturned lips. 'Why, not at all. Although maybe a "thank you", or some form of appreciation would be nice.'

'Like I said, I would've figured it out sooner or later.' I said. '_Without _your kind help.' I added pointedly, not caring if I sounded really childish.

'Blerhghddh…' Alice woke up, rising up from the hard, polished floor. Before this, I didn't know ghosts would sleep at all, but apparently they did. Alice must've been really tired out yesterday night, because usually she'd be the first one up, chirping and frolicking around like six o' clock in the morning was a perfectly sane and normal time to be up. Rosalie and Angela were both sprawled on the floor, hugging each other. I don't know if "sprawled" would be a good word, though, since they were hovering about two inches off the floor.

'Morning.' Edward and I said simultaneously. I shot him an unnecessarily fierce glare, and he smiled. _Again_. Gah. Stupid ghosts.

'Morning.' Alice stretched, floating off the floor. 'So…' a brief flash of despair crossed her face. I think she must've been thinking about the events that had transpired the day before. '…what're we going to do today?'

'I was thinking we should visit Tyler in the hospital. Make sure he's still alive, and all that. Oh, and we should drop by the police station, too. Visit our incarcerated friend Lauren. The usual stuff.' I shrugged.

A ghost of a smile – sorry, bad but completely unintentional pun – graced Alice's delicately elfin features. 'Yeah. The usual stuff. Hey! Hey, wake up, Rosie! Angela!'

They both grumpily woke, peering at me through bleary eyes. As Alice told them our events planned for today, I pulled on my other woolen sock, and stood up.

'Hospital and police station. Sounds good.' Stupid Edward rose off the bay window seat.

'Excuse me?' I sniped. 'Who invited _you _along?'

Alice's jaw slacked, eyes flicking between the both of us like she was watching a tennis match.

Edward looked surprised. I couldn't help but feel satisfied that I'd thrown him a little. He paused for a moment, then tipped an imaginary hat. 'Well, have a good day, ladies.'

He vanished.

'That wasn't very nice!' Rosalie looked at me balefully.

'What?' I defended myself, feeling a little guilty now. Okay, so I'd acted like a baby.

'You just brushed him off like that?' Angela seemed a little awed.

'Well, I didn't really want him to come. And he annoys me.' I fished around half-heartedly for an excuse.

'I thought you liked him!' Alice pouted a little.

'Yeah! I thought so too.' Rosalie picked herself up.

'_What_?'

'I mean, you know, since you both live together, and everything.' Alice raised an eyebrow wickedly. 'So I just sort of… assumed… that you were both together.'

'That's… preposterous.' I blustered, blushing a little.

'Well, turns out we weren't right.' Angela sighed and propped her face up on her palms.

'I swear _he _likes _you, _though.' Alice muttered thoughtfully.

'_What?_''

'Erm –' Alice looked slightly uncomfortable. 'I don't know if it's my place to tell you but… last night, after you all went to sleep, I was still awake, see? I couldn't sleep at all. I think I only got about two hours of sleep. Anyway, I rolled over to my side and… saw him. Edward.'

'And…?' I prompted, more curious than I wanted to let on.

'He was sitting over there.' Alice pointed at the bay window seat. 'Where he always sits, and he was… watching you. You know… looking at you sleep.'

I was stupefied. Bewildered. Alice must've been hallucinating.

'But… _why_?'

'How am I supposed to know?' Alice threw her ghostly arms up, sighing in exasperation. 'You're the one who should know.' Then she gave me this hugely exaggerated wink. Like Edward and I were secretly having some torrid affair behind her back or something. Pssh.

Rosalie and Angela squealed. 'So he was just _sitting_ there? Staring? How romantic!'

'It doesn't even _mean _anything.'

'Doesn't _mean_ anything?' Rosalie regarded me with in incredulous expression. 'You can't be freaking serious. Look, a guy – a pretty damn hot guy, might I add – watching you sleep the whole night is not _nothing_.'

'Argh, whatever.' my mood soured even further. Though I'll admit my entire body was flushed. Don't get the wrong idea – I didn't like it. Edward watching me sleep, I mean. Not in the least. It felt like a pretty huge invasion of privacy, actually. Plus I do a lot of funky stuff when I sleep. Like drool and sleep talk, for instance. Not something I particularly want someone to witness, you see. 'I'm off to the hospital. You guys coming?'

--

I practically had to beg Renee to let me out of the house. She finally relented, but this time she insisted on following. 'Every time I let you out of my sight you become a witness to a murder.' She grumbled, but I could see she was more worried than angry.

I hate hospitals. They're so… ick. Those bright lights overhead make me feel sick. Never been able to stand them. Since Forks wasn't exactly a huge metropolis, the hospital was pretty modest, somewhere beside Fork's Main Street.

'Ugh.' Alice voiced my thoughts exactly as we pulled up to the hospital, tucked safely in Renee's old Ford. The three of them were squashed together in the back seats, constantly shifting about.

'We're looking for a Tyler Crowley. He was just admitted yesterday.' I leaned over the receptionist's desk, and a kindly black woman pointed the way.

'So, tell me again how this boy got himself hurt?' Renee asked, looking around with mild interest. We passed a listless, veiny old man seated in a wheelchair, staring blankly in front of him. I shuddered delicately.

'He – er – fell off a cliff.' I told Renee a little sheepishly.

'Good God.' Renee put a hand on her heart. 'What is wrong with this town? You know him? This boy?' Renee asked as we walked down a semi-crowded corridor.

'Er – yeah. Sure. Good friend.' I lied. I figured visiting someone I didn't know at all in the hospital would seem a teeny bit strange.

'Yuck.' Angela turned pale as the three of them drifted behind us.

'You smell it, too?' Rosalie said uncertainly.

'Yeah. It's everywhere.'

'It smells like death.' Alice said in a hushed voice, solemn and grave.

'Disgusting.' Angela complained.

'Here – Ward 23B.' Renee peered in through a small sliver of glass placed directly in the middle of the mahogany door. 'There's no one in there.'

'Good.'

I cautiously pushed open the heavy door, not wanting to startle Tyler. He was asleep, face pale and bruised all over. Even from over here the bruises looked like they hurt. Really, really hurt. Both his legs were encased in plaster casts. There were multiple tubes running in and out of his body, with evil-looking machines beeping by his side.

'Is he alright?' Alice floated right through the door and hurried over to Tyler's motionless side.

'Goodness, the boy looks terrible.' Renee sympathized, wincing a little.

'At least he's alive.' I said darkly, thinking of that ghost again.

'Oh, my God.' The three of them clustered around Tyler's bed, supremely worried. Renee stepped right through Rosalie, and the both of them let out exclamations of surprise. 'Cold in here, isn't it?' Renee rubbed her shoulders.

'Yeah.' I said dryly, looking at Rosalie who was saying, 'That felt so weird. Someone going through me.'

There was a clipboard attached to the side of Tyler's bed. I leaned down and tugged it off. It was a report of Tyler's physical condition, prepared by a doctor.

'Oh God.' I said, to both the ghosts and the living. 'Look at this – it says here he went through a three hour surgery last night to fix his broken ribs and fractured arm.' I peered closer at the clipboard, flipping over a page. 'He hasn't woken up since. Blood pressure's fine. No visible brain damage. Multiple bruises and lacerations all over… his condition's pretty stable, though.'

'Fucking hell.' Rosalie exclaimed. 'That possession ghost, or whatever, is _so _dead.'

'If she's a ghost there's a _very_ strong possibility she could already be dead.' Alice reminded her.

Rosalie scowled. 'You know what I meant.'

Tyler's eyes fluttered.

'Oh, wait, he's waking up.' Renee said.

'He's not waking up anytime soon.' Someone cackled. An unfamiliar voice. For some reason, only Alice, Rosalie, Angela and I turned around automatically at the voice. Then I realized Renee didn't turn around because she couldn't hear her.

It was _her. _The ghost I'd seen outside Lauren's room. She didn't look any different from the last time I saw her, except maybe now her eyes glittered.

'You!' I yelled without thinking.

Renee's head snapped around. 'What?' she asked, confused.

Then I did a pretty stupid thing. I pounced, running towards her with something blazing in my chest. God damn it, she still had the nerve to show up after what she'd done. I was plenty sure she'd had something to do with Alice, Rosalie and Angela's deaths, too. I was going to _kill_ her.

Well, okay, she was already dead, but _you _know what I mean.

Of course, being a ghostly apparition, she simply walked through the opposite wall and disappeared.

I barreled through Ward 23B's wooden door amidst Renee's bewildered cries of 'Bella! What're you doing?'

I scanned the corridor, heart pumping wildly and ghost-kicking instincts already kicking in. Where the fuck was she?

Then I saw her. She'd reappeared at the other side of the wall, looking smug. She stood as I approached her, still smiling. This was a little weird. I mean, any sane ghost would've just run. Ghost whisperers are plenty skilled in kicking ghost butt.

'Hey again.' She greeted, waving.

Then I sank my fist into the side of her jaw, effectively throwing her against the floor.

'Argh!' she howled in pain, eyes squinted and hands clutching at her mouth in agony. 'What the – you can _touch_ me?'

'Duh.' I rolled my eyes, and lifted her up again. Ghosts are surprisingly light. 'Good for me, I guess.' Then I socked another one to her nose. I could feel soft cartilage shatter under my fist. Lucky there wasn't anybody in that deserted corridor. Blood spurted from her mangled nose, and she let out another fresh howl, wriggling and fighting me away.

'Get – away –' she gasped, kicking.

'I cannot believe – ' I laughed humorlessly. '-that you actually had the fucking balls to come back here and _visit _Tyler. What is _wrong_ with you?' I didn't give her the chance to reply though. I guess getting kneed in your gut isn't very good for conversation.

The ghost groaned and doubled over, gasping and whimpering. It'd take a lot more than a few punches and kicks to get rid of her, though. That broken nose I'd given her would heal in a few hours.

'Fuck you!' the ghost screamed. Apparently she'd wised up, because when I reared my leg back to flip her over and nail her down on the floor, she sank right through the solid tiled floor and disappeared.

And you already know how much I hate it when ghosts do that.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Hahaha! Review! Sorry I took so long to update, I'm a bit busy at the moment.


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